Stirring the Embers
by tonraq
Summary: Amyro. Just a lighthearted little romance with two of my favourite characters. Try it, you might like it. FINISHED!
1. Thief

I don't own X-men: Evolution

* * *

"Well, well. Wot's this we've got 'ere?" A masculine voice chuckled.  
  
Amara yelped as her story was rudely plucked right from under her pen.

"Hey! Give that back!" She looked up to see the grinning thief standing before her, looking over the papers.

He seemed to be about 17 years old, and he had the messiest, most orange hair she had ever seen, accompanied by a laughing grin. It was a face that was hard to forget. In fact, Amara was sure that she'd seen him somewhere before.  
  
"Or you'll what?" The boy gave her an insolent wink and started scanning the penned pages of her story.  
  
Amara felt her face burning. She hated it when people read her work...writing was a secret passion of hers, with emphasis on the _secret_, and she didn't like to show off to or be mocked by other people.  
  
And now this...boy had just popped out of nowhere, grabbed her story and was now nonchalantly skimming her work, as if he did things like this every day. Maybe he did; people were strange here in America.  
  
"Give it back now, or...I'll...I'll—"She swore she knew his face from somewhere.  
  
"Wot, slap me? Write bad poetry about me? I'll tell ya, Sheila, there's a good plot here, but don't include songs. Your rhyme schemes are killing me eyes."  
  
The Australian boy eyed his insulted target over the top of the sheaf of papers, smirking as she visibly got more and more angry by the minute. The sheila was positively smoking at the ears.  
  
His eyes flicked back to the paper. The story was actually pretty good, but it really didn't interest him at all. Sure, he loved a good romance, but this was...slow? Perhaps, but that wasn't even half the problem. There was dialogue, intrigue, character development...but it lacked something, maybe motivation? No, that wasn't it, it was—  
  
His train of thought was derailed by a strange crackling noise. His short attention span shifted itself to the sheila in front of him once again. His eyes opened wide, and he nearly dropped the paper at the sight before him.

* * *

Later, Amara would argue that the boy had driven her emotions to the point where they controlled her power. She would also argue that the spot she always came to write in was secluded, way in the corner of Bayville Park and surrounded by large trees and bushes, anyway. Nobody would see her except the boy.  
  
But this was now, and she exulted in the fiery form that had earned her the name of Magma. Now it was her turn to smirk as the boy looked up at her, his blue eyes wide in shock.  
  
She watched smugly, waiting for the boy to drop her papers, run away, and be too afraid to tell anyone about her ever again. Or so went her plan.  
  
But—he didn't.  
  
She looked on as the expression on the boy's face turned from one of utter astonishment to one of...

Oh no.  
  
Now she recognized him, with that crazy gleam in his eyes, a joyful expression highlighted by the flickering of fire.

St John Allerdyce, or "Pyro" as he was called by friend and enemy alike, had never seen anything quite like the living, breathing flame standing before him. A vision of fire made substance, light and warmth barely tamed into the impish form of a teenaged girl.  
  
Flame...he grinned wickedly as the girl tried shifting back to her original form. Ooooh, he was going to have himself some fun.

* * *

A/N: I'm such a hypocrite. "Dogboy" is on hiatus and I'm writing a new story. So sue me. Actually, please don't. Just review.


	2. Pyromaniac

I don't own X-men Evolution

* * *

Amara held in a shriek as she found that she couldn't shift back to her human self. In fact, she couldn't move from the waist down.  
  
"You..." She hissed at her tormenter, her mind frantically searching for ways to get herself out of this mess. A faint smoky smell reached her nose...she hurriedly dimmed the flames on her feet as much as she could to avoid burning down the trees surrounding her small clearing.  
  
"What do you want?" She spat at the grinning boy—Pyro, she corrected mentally. How could she have been so oblivious? Of course the one mutant to steal her papers would be Magneto's semi-sane lackey, who just happened to control fire. And only she had not the wits to figure out who he was until tool late. Hadn't the Professor warned her specifically to stay away from this Acolyte?  
  
"I asked you what you want with me. Where I'm from, it's considered rude not to give an answer." She controlled her panic by reverting to snobbery; as a princess she was rather good at it.  
  
"Oh, I dunno, Sheila. Didn't mean to offend you. Noice piece o' work ya got 'ere." He waved the paper at her teasingly. "I wasn't kiddin' when I said that. But it needs somethin', if ya know what I mean..."  
  
"No, I don't know what you mean. And if you just want to read my paper, then let me go! I'll let you read it without bothering you."  
  
"You work with that Xavier feller, roight?"  
  
Amara blinked at the swift change in subject and answered without thinking. "Yeah, I live at the mansion, if that's what you mean." She bit her lip, regretting the words as soon as they were out of her mouth.  
  
He caught the look of consternation in her eyes and smiled easily at her. "No worries, Sheila. I ain't gonna hurt ya. I'm just curious, ya know?"  
  
"How do I know that?" She answered guardedly. "You could be lying."  
  
"Suit yerself, Sheila." He shrugged.  
  
"Will you stop calling me that?" She demanded, and then returned to her original thought: "Why exactly are you keeping me like this? What do you want?"  
  
"Wow, lotsa questions. Lessee...one, I don't know yer name, so I'll settle for Sheila. Unless you'd loike me to call you 'Girlie' instead?" She shook her head.  
  
"No, I didn't think so. Two, I'm curious as to yer specific powers, plus you look very noice just loike that and I don't want you to shift back just yet. Three...I dunno wot it is I want. I was bored, so I dessoided t'give ol' Mags the slip an' foind meself somethin' t'do. An' now I have."  
  
"Well if you just want to chat...arg, what am I saying?" Amara gave herself a mental slap. It was a good thing that she was in her Magma form, as she had blushed when he had commented on how nice she looked. He was the enemy, not some boy to drool over!

"Let me go this instant, you rude pyromaniac!"  
  
"Wot if I don't want to?"  
  
"Let me go! I wasn't doing anything to you, was I? All I want is for you to give me my paper back and to just let-me-GO!"  
  
Throughout her little speech, Amara had steadily been growing more and more angry. Who was this boy to think he could hold her, a Princess of Nova Roma, a free citizen and an independent teen, against her will?  
  
On the word 'GO', she bundled up all that rage and slammed it into the ground, the pure force of energy touching on the magma deep below the earth's surface, causing a slight shift in the rocks below her.  
  
Pyro cursed inwardly, feeling his hold on the girl weaken as he stumbled and nearly fell. Amara's spirits soared as she felt his hold loosen on her powers.

She hurriedly started changing back, but cursed as she was stuck once again, only this time her top half was completely human while her bottom half maintained its appearance as living fire.

She glanced fearfully towards the Australian teenager, whose expression had darkened enough that his smile was just a little on the sinister side.  
  
"Naughty, naughty little sheila. Hmm, I suppose I'll have to get your name eventually..." He pointed his finger imperiously at the small brook that ran through the small clearing and jerked his head towards it.  
  
Stiffly, Amara's legs began to carry her towards the stream. Her eyes widened in horror; throwing dignity to the winds she started to shriek.  
  
"Stop! Stop it this instant! Pyro, please stop!"  
  
Water scared and hurt her when she was in her fire form. It was cold, liquid, deadly; it threatened to douse her molten self and turn her as cool and dead as stone. She wasn't sure she could change back from a form of solid rock, and she wasn't willing to give it a chance.  
  
Pyro lowered his hand, "So you'll tell me yer name now?"  
  
He kept his tone flippant, but inside he squirmed. He hadn't meant to make her freak out...he didn't want to scare her, just shake her up a bit. He felt even sorrier as he heard her voice catch in her throat with her reply.  
  
"I-my name is Amara. Amara Aquilla. Please will you let me go now?"  
  
This wasn't fun anymore; he was turning himself into a villain. Not that he wasn't already, but he liked to think of himself as eccentric rather than evil. Time to make a memorable exit.  
  
His eyes gleamed.  
  
"I'm terribly sorry fer botherin' you, Amara Aquilla." Keeping up the nonchalant attitude, Pyro sauntered over to where she was standing, still uncomfortably close to the stream, under a large oak.  
  
"But I did loike yer story. Yet, it still lacks somethin' don't it?" He was now directly in front of her. "How's 'bout I tell you wot it is, Amara Aquilla?"  
  
She could feel his breath hot on her cheek as he put both hands on her shoulders, forcing her up against the oak tree as he leaned in to whisper in her ear.  
  
"Fire, Amara Aquilla. It needs passion, it needs drive, and it needs... fire."  
  
St John couldn't help it. He drew his mouth away from her ear, looking her straight in the eye. He heard her gasp and he came to a swift decision. Leaning his head down, he pressed his mouth to hers in a hard, passionate kiss.  
  
Amara gasped as she felt him release his hold on her powers; her knees buckled from the feeling of her power flowing like fire through her veins, making her feel alive, vibrant, and in tune with the very core of her being. And perhaps it was not just her power giving her the sensations as it seemed to pour into her from the meeting point of his lips on hers.  
  
Pyro drew back -- without releasing her upper body-- after what seemed to be an endless length of time, breathing a little more raggedly than normal, yet still managing a cocky smirk, arching his eyebrow at the little fireball standing before him.  
  
To say Amara was furious would be an understatement. After a brief moment of shock, she flared up into her Magma form, thought better of it, and returned just as swiftly to her normal skin in a matter of seconds. She glared up at the teenaged boy still holding her up against the oak. Action must be taken.  
  
"You think you're all that, don't you?" Nobody toyed with a Nova Roman Princess, especially a guy who thought that just because he was an Acolyte he could do anything.  
  
She promptly kneed him in the groin. Hard.  
  
Mustering up all the shreds of her dignity, Amara snatched her precious story out of the hands of St John Allerdyce, who was currently situated on the forest floor in a fetal position.  
  
"Next time, don't go all male on me. In fact, make sure there is no next time."  
  
She walked away.

* * *

A/N: Muwahahaha. I'm so evil to Pyro. Anyways...Just a couple of things:

1: Does Pyro actually use "sheila" as his term for 'girl', or is this just fanon?

2: I use "Sheila" with a capital for when he's directly referring to someone, like saying "Hello Mrs Smith", it's like "Hello Shiela."

I use "sheila" with lower case when he's not really talking to anyone specific, or he's just thinking, like "the girls are cool" would be like "the sheilas are cool".

3: Am I going a bit overboard on the accent? I've never tried doing accents before, so tell me what I need to do, kay?

R&R folks!


	3. Confused

I do not own X-men: Evolution

* * *

Remy Lebeau considered himself to be an excellent judge of character, a skilled reader of emotions and a highly sympathetic person.

Not that being an Empath had anything to do with it.  
  
Gambit was sprawled out on the solitary couch in the Acolyte's rec room, lazily flicking through the TV channels when a veritable tidal wave of emotions surged against his empathic senses.

St. John Allerdyce slumped down into a broken recliner, rubbing his temples and looking generally unhappy with the world.  
  
Remy muted the commercials and lifted his head, casting an appraising glance at the pyro whose mental state could only be described as "complicated".  
  
"Chill, mon ami. Qu'est-ce que c'est le problem?"  
  
Pyro was used to Remy's curious New Orleans dialect, so the Cajun knew that his hesitation before answering was due to some other factor.

"Nothin's the matter, mate. Jus' got a little bit of an 'eadache, is all."  
  
Remy snorted. "Headache? Don't underestimate dis Cajun, Pyro. What's got you so angry, and confused, and—"

He stopped his search abruptly as he came across a rather different emotion. "Remy's not even goin' there, homme. This is about a girl, ain't it?"  
  
In response, the fire starter got up slowly and, muttering incoherently to himself, stumbled off to his room.  
  
"Damn'd...sheila...bloody hell." Remy caught a couple words before a door slammed; cutting off the rest of anything St John had to say.  
  
Remy chuckled to himself. Whilst shuffling through Pyro's emotions like so many cards, he had found...something...that had never been there before.  
  
"Def'nitely 'bout a femme." He flicked the volume back on the TV and settled back lazily to watch the cartoons.

* * *

"...and then he kissed me! What do you think that means?"  
  
"I think it means that you are one helluva boy magnet, Amara." Tabitha Smith smirked at her best friend's annoyed expression with amusement.  
  
Amara had told Tabby the whole story, downplaying Pyro's control over her power to a simple matter of extinguishing any fireballs she threw at him.

She was definitely not about to say anything about his holding her captive with her own power; it was extremely embarrassing for her to even think about it at the moment.  
  
Plus Tabitha's mind was less than clean.  
  
"So what happened next?"  
  
Amara blushed a little, "I-uh...how do you Americans say this again? I kicked him...um...where it counts."  
  
Tabby whooped with laughter as Amara turned redder, finally breaking down and giggling a bit as well.  
  
The whole experience was rather surreal once she thought about it.  
  
"So he's an Acolyte, huh?" Tabby recovered herself and went on, "That should make things interesting. It's like one of those soap opera romances...the boy from the other side of the tracks. Oh, _Romeo and Juliet_! _West Side Story_!"  
  
"Uh, he is an Acolyte, yes, but..." Amara tried to make her friend listen, but was cut off again by a wickedly enthusiastic Tabby.  
  
"Ooooh, sleeping with the enemy are we, Amara? That is so like Lance and Kitty!"  
  
"WHAT?!!!"  
  
"Chill, chill, I was only joking." Tabby immediately dropped her teasing smile; Amara's hair was starting to smoke a little. "Just relax. But it's true you know. He is the enemy."  
  
Amara closed her eyes and counted to five slowly. "Tabitha. I don't even like the guy. I mean, people don't fall in love with random psychos who show up, critique your writing style while deflecting your attacks with his own mutant powers and then just kiss you on the spur of a moment."  
  
She sucked in a long breath and let it out in a sigh, rubbing her right hand across her mouth gingerly. Her lips had been tender ever since that kiss; she was almost surprised that they weren't bruised.  
  
"Well, I dunno." Tabby lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. "It sounds awfully romantic to me."  
  
"To you, maybe. In Nova Roma things are done differently." Amara's eyes took on the faraway look that she sometimes got, signifying that she was immersed in memories of her island home.  
  
"Yoo-hooooo. Earth to Amara?" Tabby waved her hand in front of her friend's face.  
  
"Hmm? What did you say?"  
  
Tabby couldn't help but to tease. "I said, you going for older guys now, Amara?"  
  
"Tabby!" Amara chucked the book on the bedside table, narrowly missing her friend. "Wait...how d'you know how old he is?"  
  
"Curious?"  
  
"No, it's just—"  
  
Tabby didn't wait for Amara to finish her sentence. "Oh come on, the Prof's got files on each one of Mags' bad boys on the computer. For reference, in case we hafta fight them, ya know? Here, I'll show you."

The energetic blonde pulled her reluctant friend off the bed and started happily dragging her out of the room by the wrist. Amara relented and stopped struggling in the hallways.

"So how do you know about that?"  
  
"Let's just say I walked in on Rogue the other day..."

* * *

Click-_click_.  
  
Click-_click_.  
  
Click-_click_.  
  
St John sat in his room alone, moodily glaring at the flame of his lighter as he flipped the lid open and closed over and over again. Why had he kissed the girl? He had no clue.

Pyro appreciated a beautiful girl as much as the next guy, but he was no Gambit to run back and forth for love or lust. Perhaps it was something peculiar to his mutation. A sort of pull towards anything to do with flame—light, heat, magma, you name it. That would be a plausible explanation, yes.  
  
Click-_click._

Click-_click._

As for the girl herself...she looked barely a day over fifteen; maybe sixteen at the most. He himself was nineteen, and he preferred not to rob the cradle. Then again, some couples were decades apart...4 years wasn't that much of a difference, was it?  
  
Click-_click._

Click-_cli--_

"Damn." He cursed softly as the lighter lid snapped onto his finger. Why was he even getting distracted over the girl? Time for a change of pace.  
  
"Damnit!" Pyro swore again as he tried sitting up. Getting involved with girls was a torturous business: loss of concentration, much confusion and unimaginable pain whenever he moved his legs in a certain way.  
  
Wincing, he settled back into his original position, leaning against the backboard of his bed, resting his head against the pillow he'd wedged behind his neck. He flicked open the lighter.  
  
Studying the flame, he poured all of his thoughts into it, clearing his mind and removing all the swirling emotions within himself to reside within the flame. He blew gently onto the fire and watched as it swirled and twisted into the minute form of a girl.  
  
Fuelled by his emotions, the flame-girl detached herself from her original source of the lighter, floating down to rest gently upon his small bedside table.  
  
Pyro kept his eyes fixed on the tiny sprite, still feeding his feelings into the flame, enjoying the sense of emptiness within himself. He focussed intently on his creation.

The fire girl danced lightly across the wood tabletop, leaving tiny smoking footprints precisely burned into the wood.

"Now don't do that, Sheila," St John murmured and twitched his eyebrow, causing the sprite to swirl towards him through the air. "Ol' Magneto'll have my arse if I damage any more furniture."  
  
He glanced around at his room; though small, it still seemed bare as it had no furniture except for his bed, bedside table and dresser. Nobody really trusted him with anything more.  
  
He turned his attention back to the inch-high figure floating in front of him, cupping it in the palm of his hand. The fire, which had burned the wood so easily, did nothing to his bare skin except to give a slight tickling sensation.  
  
He sighed. "So wot d'you know about girls, pretty Sheila?"

* * *

At the door to the Aussie's room, Gambit and Colossus watched their teammate as he stared dreamily at his radiant creation, occasionally talking to it or asking it questions.  
  
The two older Acolytes exchanged looks.  
  
"Remy always knew dat kid was crazy."  
  
"Da, but is better than him burning the place down."

* * *

A/N: Hooray for Piotr! He ROCKS! Now I sound like Lance...lol.


	4. Overcast

* * *

I don't own X-men: Evolution

* * *

"Hmm...Magneto, Gambit, Colossus...Pyro! Here we are!"  
  
Tabitha clicked on the link on the computer screen, taking herself to the information page dedicated to St John Allerdyce. Amara sat beside her, reading intently.  
  
"'..._may be mentally unstable_.'" Tabby giggled a bit. "Nobody who's that good looking can be perfectly sane, but it does explain his randomness."  
  
Amara thought back for a moment, unconsciously rubbing her lips as she did so. Tabby noticed and smirked, but Amara didn't notice.  
  
"He didn't come across as being super-crazy, just maybe a little hyper." She frowned, and added, "Hyper in an evil sort of way."  
  
"Hey, look at this! He's nineteen." Tabby waggled her eyebrows at Amara, who considered slapping her friend but decided against it.  
  
"Good thing that you turned seventeen in January. He's only two years older than you! That's perfect..." Tabby sat back and looked at her friend critically. "So when's the engagement party?"  
  
"**Tabitha**..." Amara silently vowed to herself, right that moment, that she would NOT fall in love with the pyromaniac, if only for the reason that Tabitha kept teasing her about him.

* * *

Pyro yawned and stretched, feeling only marginal pain in the more intimate parts of his anatomy. He glanced at the window; judging by the sky it was either early evening or early morning. He decided on early morning as Remy's voice floated in through the window; belting out a French drinking song in a slurred voice. He had slept for several hours, then. 

Feeling slight warmth right over his heart, he looked down at his front, and smiled. The tiny fire maiden he had created was curled up on his bare chest, emitting minute puffs of smoke whenever she exhaled. It was a wonder she hadn't burned his room down.

He groped under his pillow with his hand, retrieved his lighter and flicked it open. The fire maiden got up and trotted obediently into the heart of the flame, blowing him a kiss before merging completely. He snapped the lighter closed and levered himself into a sitting position on the edge of his bed.  
  
"Pyro—"  
  
"Wah!" St John jumped as Pietro stuck his head around the door.  
  
"Magneto's called a meeting. Be there in five." Quicksilver paused before withdrawing his head. "And put a shirt on for goodness' sakes."

* * *

The sunny morning had turned into an ominously overcast afternoon. Despite this fact, Amara decided to take a walk; Bobby was getting on her nerves again with his corny jokes and silly pranks. Solitude was needed, especially since she needed to sort out her feelings. And write some more.  
  
Grabbing her notebook and a pen, Amara made her way out to the mansion's grounds. After nearly getting fried by Berserker as he chased after Cannonball, she decided to seek refuge in her clearing in Bayville Park.  
  
She was a little nervous, but then told herself to stop being stupid. Just because Pyro showed up once doesn't mean he'd do it again. Besides, she'd know better now. It was highly doubtful that the pyromaniac would show up; what reason did he have?  
  
Amara pushed her way through the bushes until she reached her small glade. Settling herself in between the roots of an old maple, she got her story out and started writing. A drop fell onto her page; she looked up at the sky and scowled. Rain was the last thing she needed right now. The sky was heavily cloudy, but there didn't seem to be any more water forthcoming. 

Good.

She turned back to her story.

* * *

St John trailed behind Colossus on his way to the kitchen after the general meeting. He hated those meetings; his attention wandered after the first five minutes, leaving him bored and restless. And why did Magneto call them so bloody early? And why did they go on for so bloody long?   
  
He grabbed himself a snack from the fridge and threw himself down on the couch, flipping on the TV before....  
  
"Mon ami, you know dat de couch is Remy's non?"  
  
Pyro sighed exasperatedly; the Cajun stood right in his line of vision, totally blocking the TV screen.  
  
"Remy's terribly sorry, mon ami, but it's either off de couch or on your back." A wicked smirk formed on Gambit's face. Last time Pyro and himself had disagreed over the couch rights, the Aussie had gotten royally beat to a pulp.  
  
"Awright, foine. Wasn't anything good on anyways." Pyro got up and stalked outside.  
  
He looked up. The sky was clouded over, making the world seem drab and boring. He decided to take a walk; the fresh air would be good for him, and he needed to think about Amara Aquilla.

He had decided that she was much too fun just to let go.

* * *

A/N: Here's my really boring filler chapter to set up the circumstances for our little lovebirds' meeting. Oh, and I made Amara 17-ish, cause her character is pretty mature and stuff. Whatever. ;)

Anna: How's this for speedy? Lol. Thanks for the affirmation of the accent-ness.

Ima Super Mute Ant: I love your name!! Haha, glad you like the story. I love Amyro's....If you know any good ones, tell me okay? There's not enough of them on ff.net...:)

The Son of Logan and Ororo: Thank-you for the accent affirmation. Your brother in law is Australian? That's cool!


	5. Downpour

I don't own X-men Evolution

* * *

_"...she sighed to herself, and turned the music up. How sweet it was to sit and contemplate death..."  
_  
Amara paused, her pen hovering over her writing. This was supposed to be a romance story, not a suicide fiction! But then, her character had good reason; her family hated her because she was a mutant, and she had a seriously messed up love life.

Not that Amara had had any personal experience with either of those dilemmas, but she figured that since she lived in a mansion where four out of five students had been exiled by their own kin, she should have a pretty good idea of what that was like. And as for the love life—she read romance novels all the time, didn't she?  
  
She settled back to writing, looking irritably up at the sky once more as yet another drop of water splashed onto her jeans. It had been going like that for the past hour; random drops falling every five minutes or so. Still she sat in apprehension of the rain finally making up its mind to come down once and for all.  
  
Another drop splashed down.  
  
Another.  
  
Another.  
  
Amara groaned. Looked like the time to get going. Soon the rain was a gentle patter as she folded up her papers and jammed them into a pocket of her jeans to try and keep them dry. The maple tree held off the worst of it, but she knew that the small shelter wouldn't last for long.  
  
She decided to make a break for it, took a step, and then stopped as realization struck her. She was wearing a white t-shirt!  
  
Maybe if she sprinted fast enough she could dodge the raindrops. Yeah right. She was no Quicksilver, and she doubted that even he could go that fast. Best just to make a break for it before the rain got worse and hope for the best.  
  
She took a deep breath and started running, head down, into the steadily increasing downpour.

* * *

St John reached the park at a leisurely stroll, scowling up at the sky as it finally decided to let loose. Good thing he had a jacket on over his white t-shirt. He grimaced as he realized that Amara probably would have gone home by now, or at least started out. 

Wait a second... The familiar figure of a girl came running out of the small wooded area, her head down, oblivious to everything around her. Pyro's eyes lit up, and he grinned psychotically as he started to sprint.

This afternoon could be quite fun after all.

* * *

Amara ran through the park, aiming for the next little stand of trees that was closer to the road, figuring that the slight protection from the rain was a bonus. She kept her head down, studying the path in front of her to avoid any roots or branches that might trip her up.  
  
She ran under the shade of the trees, noting with disgust that the rain was coming down so hard that the foliage protection was next to non-existent. She kept running through the trees until—  
  
**Thud!  
**  
Her head hit something hard, and she staggered backwards from the force of the blow. She was about to end up in the mud when she felt arms wrapping around her waist to pull her snug against a warm body. She looked up and groaned.  
  
"Wot? Y'ain't happy t' see me?"  
  
St John grinned. It had been too easy to intercept the girl, though he had been taken off guard by the way she had slammed into his stomach so hard. He looked down at the girl in his arms, who was staring at him with five kinds of murder in her eyes. Uh-oh.  
  
"What are you doing?" Amara kept her voice quiet, but anger at being caught by surprise lent it incredible force. "Let me go this instant, Pyro." She made his name sound like a curse.  
  
He kept up his happy demeanor. "I don't think I'll let ya go this easy. Besoides, I sort of loike this situation." He hugged her closer, pressing her front into his own with an iron grip.  
  
She squeaked a bit as he pulled her even closer, his warmth penetrating to her through his sodden jacket. Just great. After all her running she managed to get her shirt soaked anyways. Perhaps it was a good thing he was holding her this close.  
  
Pyro smiled to himself as he felt her relax marginally in his arms. Now what did he do?  
  
"Let me go." Well, solved that problem. Argument time!  
  
"No."  
  
"Please let me go?"  
  
"Make me, 'Mara." He chuckled. Alliteration...so fun.  
  
"Well fine then." Ooh, that was unexpected. "Tell me why you're doing this."  
  
Yikes. Hard question there. Why _was_ he doing this? Hugging a girl he barely knew a day after sharing the most passionate kiss he had ever had with her. Oh yeah, he didn't need a reason. He was crazy, remember?  
  
"The way I see it, I don't think I need a reason. You did run into me after all. Not the other way 'round. And I'm just 'elping ya get back on yer feet, is all." _Heheheh_.  
  
"Well I think I've got my balance back by now. Thanks for catching me, and I'm sorry for running into you. There. Can I go?"  
  
"Crikey, Sheila. Wot am I, your mother? No need to sound so prissy."  
  
"I've already told you," she gritted her teeth, her voice getting dangerously quiet, "my name is Amara Aquilla, Princess of Nova Roma. Now get your hands off of our Royal Person."  
  
A princess? When did that happen? And what was with pulling rank? But if that was the way it was gonna be...  
  
"I don't have my hands on ya, Amara Aquilla. Just me arms." He released her, but then immediately had her back in his arms, with his right hand splayed out on her lower back and his left one pressing between her shoulder blades so that she was forced to lean onto his chest. "This is havin' me hands on ya, Amara."  
  
_Don'tpanicdon'tpanicdon'tpanicdon'tpanicdon'tpanicdon'tpanic_. The rain beat incessantly on it's way downwards, drumming out a ceaseless tattoo. 

Amara's mind raced: What would Tabby do in this kind of situation? Most likely just seduce him. Never mind, that was out of the question.

Okay then...what would Rogue do? Most likely zap him with her powers, or pull a couple of fighting moves on him. Rogue was good at that sort of thing, but she had been training for far longer than Amara had, and Amara was not so confident with her hand to hand combat skills.  
  
Amara placed her hands on Pyro's chest, pushing him away with all her might. She managed to get several inches in between them before making the mistake of tilting her head back to look in his eyes.

"Oh—"

Whatever expletive she might have said was cut off by Pyro's lips on hers once again. Only this time, her mouth had been partially open, and she stiffened has he made full use of that advantage. What was he doing? Didn't he know that she could tell Mr. Logan, and then he would have no hope of ever seeing another morning? Didn't he know...

Her train of thought stopped then as she lost herself entirely within Pyro's kiss.

* * *

**A/N:** Pyro you dog! Making poor Amara all confused like that; you don't even have a clue what your doing yourself!

**Foxy-Glove:** I have flare? Cool! I hope I sort of clarified what Amara was writing...I wasn't really sure myself. She's trying for a romance, only every once in a while she breaks out into spontaneous (and according to the ever-so-encouraging St John, bad) poetry. I'm in your fav's? Thank-you!

**Ima Super Mute Ant:** Yup, I love the name. And could you send me that link again? I think it's broked :), I just get one of those annoying "This page cannot be displayed" things.


	6. Love?

I don't own X-men: Evolution

* * *

How long they stood there, Amara didn't know. The rain kept pouring, unheeded and disregarded by both teens standing in the middle of the trees, soaking them both to the bone, even penetrating Pyro's jacket.  
  
Amara was first to come back to her senses, opening her eyes wide as she realized what she was doing. She struggled against John's tight embrace, trying as hard as she could to break free, but every time she wriggled he just pulled her closer. Her cheeks burned as she realized how much of their bodies were touching—it was doubtful that a passerby would be able to tell where Amara started and John left off.  
  
Time for some of that Danger Room knowledge to be put to practical use.  
  
Amara removed her hands from Pyro's chest and slowly traced her way up his neck so that she was embracing him. She then slowly, even lazily, drew her arm back, balling her hand into a fist. In one swift motion, she decked him on the cheek, effectively breaking the liplock that he held her in while rendering him momentarily unconscious.  
  
He fell backwards, his unconscious embrace pulling her on top of him to the forest floor. Luckily, he managed to miss any large roots.  
  
Amara instantly squirmed her way out of St John's arms: the punch she had given him, while forceful, was not meant to put him to sleep for long. She could have hit Pyro on the temple, but Amara wasn't ready to face the consequences if she hit too hard and killed him. She managed to get herself into a kneeling position before his arm shot out and grabbed her wrist.  
  
"Now wot was that for?" Pyro turned his head groggily towards the girl he held by the wrist.  
  
"For not letting me go. What was _that_ for?" She demanded, referring to the kiss.  
  
He yanked on her wrist, flipping her sideways and down so that she lay on her back beside him; in the same motion he levered himself upright and to the side so that he half sat, his hands on either side of her head, bending about a foot over her face.  
  
"Don't tell me that you didn't loike it, sheila." His voice was husky, and she shivered, as much from being wet and cold from the effect he had on her.  
  
"Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't have Logan castrate you." She whispered up to him fiercely.  
  
Now it was Pyro's turn to shudder. If the sheila really was that mad at him...he wouldn't put it past Wolverine either. The man had morals, but barely; certainly not when his students were threatened. And the last time that he had had a run-in with the Canadian Pyro had definitely come out the worse.  
  
"You wouldn't."  
  
"I won't...if." She let the sentence hang.  
  
"If wot?"  
  
"If you leave me alone after this! I won't tell Logan as long as you just quit..._bothering_ me!" She really wasn't sure of what term to give whatever Pyro had been doing to her. Stalking, perhaps.  
  
"Okay then, a deal's a deal." He let go of her wrist and grabbed her hand. "Let's shake on it, shall we?" He solemnly shook her hand, then let it go.  
  
"Good, now can you get off of me?" she raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
"No."  
  
"_What_?!"  
  
"I said, 'no'. You said 'leave me alone AFTER this.' That means I should just enjoy this while I can." He smirked at her, helpless rage flitting across her features. "And don't even think of tellin' yer Wolverine. We shook on it, remember?"  
  
She scowled up at him, and he smiled. She looked cute when she did that. It was so much fun to piss her off, just to see her reactions. And the means to the end weren't so bad either. Speaking of which...  
  
"Now where were we?"  
  
"Ah-ah-ah-ah, wait just a second, pyro-boy." Amara held her hand over his mouth, which had been rapidly descending down to her level. "Why do you keep kissing me? Is it just because you're bored? Are you actually interested in me, or am I just a cheap thrill? If you want one of those, go find some other girl. I'm not interested...I don't even like you. You're my enemy for shit's sake! _Why are you kissing me_?"  
  
Pyro waggled his eyebrows at her and kissed her palm. Instantly she drew her hand back, and he grinned. "Koind of hard to answer when me mouth is blocked off. I don't suppose I could just avoid the question and get back to the kissing?"  
  
One look at her steely expression gave him his answer. He sighed. "Alroight. To tell ya the truth, I really have no oidea. You're fun, interesting, easy to piss off and you have a killer power. I'm in love with the flame, I really am, so I suppose I'm in love with you as well." He grinned at her happily.  
  
"Oh." Amara hadn't really considered that before. He was in love with her? They barely knew each other!  
  
"Um, can you get off me now?"  
  
John rolled his eyes, exasperated. "I already told you, no. Well, I can get off you, but I don't want to."  
  
"Why not? I'm getting wet, and it's really cold."  
  
"You're getting wet, eh?" Thunder rumbled in the distance as the rain pounded down even harder. "Wonder how that's happening?"  
  
"Rrrrgh..." Amara could barely keep her eyes open; the rain got into them and stung. Pyro levered himself upwards a little bit; his arms were getting sore from supporting his torso over hers. He looked down and smiled. Her white t-shirt was completely soaked through. Best not to mention that to her now.  
  
"Pyro...make up your mind! Surely you don't want to just sit here all day, so why don't you let me go and we can just go our separate ways?" She saw him looking discreetly down at her front. Pervert.  
  
"You're perfectly roight, 'Mara. I don't wanna sit here all day. But I have something more interesting in mind than just walking home." His eyes glinted.  
  
Amara was about to make another sarcastic reply when he lowered himself beside her; putting one hand under her back, he flipped her over and closer to him, catching her lips in his.  
  
Pyro was now flat on his back, enthusiastically kissing Amara, who was situated on top of him. Oh brother...she thought, before he deepened the kiss and all thoughts flew out of her mind.

* * *

**A/N:** Pyro is a dog! Poor Amara's reasoning doesn't stand a chance against his psychotic will! I have no idea why Pyro's turning out this way...meh, whatever. Yes, I know the chapter's short, but it needs to be cut off there. Dramaticness and all that rot. And YAY! for indenting! 


	7. Gossip

_ Tap.  
_  
_ Tap.  
_  
_Tap._  
  
_Tap.  
_  
"What the..." Rahne bounded over to her window, which was being repeatedly pelted by rocks. Opening it, she stuck her head outside.  
  
"Owch!"  
  
"Oops, heheh, sorry there Rahne." Amara looked up at her roommate sheepishly. "Um, you wouldn't happen to have that old rope ladder of ours available, would you?"  
  
"Aye, that I do..." Rahne threw the ladder out the window and helped Amara to hoist herself up into the room.  
  
"What happened to ye? Where have you been all afternoon? I thought you would have come home after it started raining!" Rahne stared at her friend, who was standing in a constantly-growing puddle of rainwater, muddy, disheveled, and wearing a jacket that Rahne knew was not Amara's.  
  
"I—can I tell you after I have a shower and put on some decent clothes?"  
  
"Sure. Ye're lucky I was in here to change before dinner; else you would've had tae use the front door. I'm sure Mr. Logan would be very interested in where that jacket came from."  
  
Rahne watched as Amara blushed, then hurriedly took off the jacket and gathered some dry clothes. "Yeah...Thanks Rahne, you're the best!"  
  
Rahne waited for a couple minutes after Amara shut the door, then suddenly morphed into wolf. Trotting over to where the jacket lay, she took a few deep sniffs, nosing the folds of the material. Just as suddenly, she morphed back, staring quizzically at the offending jacket.  
  
"Oh, Amara, what have you gotten yerself intae now?"

* * *

Amara Aquilla came out of the bathroom, feeling refreshed and a thousand times better than she had going in. She was greeted with the sight of Rahne sitting crosslegged on her bed, smiling smugly and with a knowing look in her eye.  
  
"I knew that leaving his jacket in here with you was a mistake."  
  
Rahne shrugged. "What can I say? Curiousity isna just for the cats. And incidentally," she shifted into wolf, trotted up to Amara and sniffed the air around her. Then she changed back. "Incidentally, you still smell like him."  
  
"Uh-oh." The thought of Mr. Logan flashed briefly through Amara's mind: he would be able to sniff her out.  
  
"How much do I still smell like him?"  
  
Rahne shrugged. "Not very much. It's faint, but it's the long-lasting kind, that showering won't take off. You'll smell like him for another day."  
  
"Oh no! What if Mr. Logan finds out? He'll give me extra danger room sessions and ground me for the rest of my life and make me polish the X-jet and not take me on any more missions and—"  
  
"Cool it, lassie. I've got something that takes the smell away, alright?" Rahne couldn't help laughing at Amara's facial expressions right then.  
  
"Really? Well, where is it?"  
  
"If I give it to you, will you tell me everything? We've got twenty minutes before supper time..."  
  
Ouch. But Rahne could be trusted; she wasn't like Kitty or Jubilee, who seemed to delight in updating everyone on everything that happened to everyone within the mansion.  
  
"Alright, I promise." _Seems like I've been making lots of promises lately_.

* * *

Pyro sneaked quietly past the TV room and made his way cautiously up the stairs to his bedroom. Once there, he carefully shut the door and locked it. He looked down at himself. He was soaked; before leaving Amara he had insisted that she take his jacket. He had sort of felt guilty for making her wet and late, and it was the least he could do for her. St John snorted. He was going soft.  
  
He stripped, peeling off the sodden clothes and throwing them to the floor in a heap. Reaching under his bed, Pyro brought out a flat stone that he had once found in the park. 

Dragging it to the centre of his room, he retrieved his lighter and sent a ball of flame to rest, crackling on the flat stone, instantly filling the room with rolling waves of heat. He spread his clothes out on the floor near the fire; they would dry soon.  
  
Slinging a loose towel around his waist, St John walked down the hall to the showers, whistling a slight tune. The afternoon had been very interesting.

* * *

"You mean you were lying like right on top of him?" Rahne's eyes were as big as saucers.  
  
"I know! It was so weird..." Amara's voice trailed off as she thought back to it.  
  
"You keep leaving your sentences hanging, you know that? It's really annoying." Tabby huffed, wanting to hear the rest of the story. She had dropped by in time to hear Amara confessing all, and as the first one who had known about Pyro and Amara, Tabby had taken it upon herself to listen to her friend confess along with Rahne. "So what happened next?"  
  
"Oh, sorry. Okay, he was kissing me again, and so I figured, 'Hey, I made this guy practically swear never to bother me ever again, so I'll probably never see him again, except when we're battling.' So I kissed him back, one thing led to another, and..."  
  
"Amara! You didn't!...did you?" Rahne gasped, horrified.  
  
"No!" Amara blushed, realizing what her friend meant. "No, never like that! Not at all. I'm a princess, remember? I can't put a mark on the family honour..."  
  
Tabby giggled. "So let me get this straight. You go to the park, it starts raining. You head home, bump into the amazingly hot Pyro-boy. He makes out with you for a bit, you make him promise never to do it again, and then you guys start up again?"  
  
"Hey, the first time it was completely against my will! And I told you, he took advantage of my choice of words the second time...And I figured I might as well enjoy it for the time being." 

Amara blushed. Thinking back on it, she wasn't sure that she would have done that if given a chance to redo it. It was completely undignified...at one point she had even been pressing herself against him, instead of the other way around. She could still remember the feeling of his hands traveling up and down her body...She blushed an even deeper shade of red.  
  
Rahne and Tabby exchanged smirks over the top of Amara's blushing head. Something had finally caused Little Miss Princess to lose her cool, become unsure of herself; even gasp not in control of her own emotions!  
  
It was Rahne who finally broke the silence. "Uhm, supper's in two minutes, guys. Amara, here's the stuff that will get rid of Pyro's scent." She tossed a small blue bottle at her friend. "You only have tae use a couple drops."  
  
Tabby looked at the bottle with interest. "Where'd you get that stuff from?"  
  
Rahne looked at it proudly. "I made it meself. When you've got a sensitive nose, there are some odours—however faint—that really irritate my nostrils, so I made this stuff, with Mr. McCoy's help o' course."  
  
Tabby whistled. "You don't suppose you could make me a batch?"

* * *

**A/N**: Review please! Tell me whether I should introduce some kind of horrible conflict and turn this into a saga of undying love and heroic acts, or whether I should continue with short and fluffy liaisons that are threatened only by figures of authority (ie: Magneto and Sabretooth, Xavier and Logan). Tell me! :) 

**pietro's kitten**: Ah, okay...thanks for the info on the website. Mmmm, Amyros....lol. Yes, Australians are definitely sexy, ranking up there with Cockney Brits and French Canadians. lol

**Anna**: I'm getting inspiration for these by leaps and bounds...I hope it doesn't run dry any time soon. But I'll be starting my summer job in a couple days, so enjoy the fast updates while you can.

**Ima Super Mute Ant**: I do make Pyro out to be quite the rakish dog, don't I? Another interesting aspect of his character, I suppose. I love playing around with characters that don't get much screen time: gives you more to work with, cause they don't have set roles.

**pyroluver**: I stopped just to make you all wait in agony and suspense for this boring filler chapter. Mwahahaha, I'm so evil! And here I am, updating!! Ta-da!


	8. Addicted

I don't own X-men: Evolution

* * *

St John sat at the table in the Acolyte's kitchen, absentmindedly stirring his cereal. Across from him, Remy sat reading the comics, while Piotr was engrossed in the actual news part of the newspaper. 

Pyro sighed; normally, he would have already set the papers aflame, just to watch them burn. Today, his thoughts were occupied with a different type of fire.  
  
He had promised not to bother her any more. He had shaken on it. Let no one say that the word of an Allerdyce was less than trustworthy! But he had gotten drunk on his experience of her...Pyro couldn't get enough.

He was addicted to Amara, he admitted it to himself. The feel of her skin, the taste of her lips, the fire that he could feel burning just beneath the surface whenever he touched her...  
  
St John's thoughts were rudely interrupted as Sabretooth plonked himself down to sit at the table. Victor Creed growled, poured himself some Cheerios and started chowing down messily. John found it very hard to concentrate on visions of exquisite beauty when a veritable beast sat noisily masticating about a foot away.  
  
Should I light his fur on fire? Pyro snorted at the mental picture of Sabretooth running around like a chicken with his head cut off because the back of his shirt was consumed by 3-foot flames.  
  
Unfortunately, the snort brought Victor's head around to stare at the suddenly meek and mild Australian. "You got a problem?"  
  
"Uhm, nope, I'm perfectly alroight over here, mate." John gave a weak smile.  
  
Sabretooth growled and sniffed suspiciously. "You're lying and—hey."  
  
"Hey wot?" Pyro fingered his lighter nervously.  
  
"You smell like..." Sabretooth took another deep sniff, "Okay, who's the girl?"  
  
At this, Gambit and Colossus' heads both snapped up, staring intently at Pyro and Sabretooth.  
  
"What's dis? Our very own Pyro has got himself a femme?" Remy asked interestedly, remembering back to the night before last.  
  
"He reeks of pheromones and woman."  
  
"Hey, I took a shower." Pyro protested, feeling very victimized.  
  
"Yeah, well stuff like that takes about twenty-four hours to wear off. Good luck to ya, kid." Sabretooth grunted, gathering up his bowl of cereal and going off to the TV room to eat.  
  
Gambit leaned closer. "So who is it, homme? I'm dyin' to know. Ol' Colossus may not look it, but he's dyin' as well." The Cajun gave the Russian a nudge. Piotr, who had gone back to his newspaper, looked up and nodded.  
  
"Da. I am wondering what girl would be crazy enough to like you, John." Colossus smiled, to soften his words and invite Pyro to share his joke.  
  
"Do I hafta tell?"  
  
"Yes." Remy tapped a card ominously against the table top. "It's only fair, seein' as how you two made me confess 'bout ma Chere."  
  
"That's different."  
  
Gambit was tempted to reply with '_Is not_!', but thought better of it. "Tell, mon ami. We only want to know who she is. It's not like we're too interested in de dirty details."  
  
"Alroight." Pyro decided to play along, seeing as how Rogue and Amara were on the same team, Remy had nothing to tease him with.  
  
"She's an X-girl, Amara Aquilla. I ran into her in the park the other day. Now will you leave me alone?"  
  
"Dis Cajun wonders why all dose X-women seem to go for de guys from de ot'er side of de tracks..." Remy mused, then brightened. "Peut-etre it's our amazing looks and bad-boy personalities? What you t'ink, Johnny?"  
  
"I think I'm goin' to bed, mate." John stood up and pushed his soggy cereal away from him.  
  
"Homme, you jus' got out of bed."  
  
"I know. I'm still toired. I'll catch ya later." Pyro headed upstairs.

* * *

Amara yawned and stretched luxuriously, enjoying a morning where no early training sessions cut in on her sleeping in. Yellow light spilled into the room from a crack in the curtains; Amara glanced at the alarm clock and settled under the covers even further: **9:30 am**. The perfect time to be lazy.  
  
Her room was quiet save for Rahne's breathing in the bed next to her; nobody outside her room or in any other rooms in the mansion seemed to stir.  
  
Amara slowly reached under her bed to retrieve her pen and story; propping her pillow up against the headboard, she sat up and looked at her story. The ink was smudged on the pages due to rainwater, and there were several large splotches of mud on the paper. The memory of what had transpired in the park between herself and St John slowly trickled into her mind, painting her cheeks a bright crimson with every detail.  
  
Last night's supper had gone fine, thanks to Rahne's scent-erasing perfume and careful avoidance of Logan. With luck, nobody except for Rahne, Tabitha and herself would ever know about what had happened. And Pyro had promised never to bother her again.  
  
But after yesterday afternoon, she wasn't really sure if she wanted him to keep that promise. Somehow, her resolve not to give into the Australian's peculiar charms had dissolved; some**_when_** that afternoon, John's kisses had burned away her barriers.  
  
Amara carefully searched her feelings. What exact emotions did John evoke in her? 

Confusion at first; of course.

Passion...her cheeks flamed, and she cursed her readiness to blush. Passion certainly.  
  
And now...in some strange way, attraction had surfaced. But perhaps that attraction had been there from the start; her stubbornness had overruled her other feelings from the beginning.

She remembered back several days before. Yes, she had felt something. Something inside her that had pulled her towards the pyromaniac, something that screamed for a light and warmth to match that of her own soul.  
  
Drawing her knees up to her chin, she rested like that; turning her head to survey the rest of the room. The silence was nearly deafening, seeming to defy the boom box on her dresser and the alarm clock that sat on the table which separated her bed from Rahne's. The door to the bathroom was opened a fraction; light from the unshaded bathroom window invaded the room to meet up with the puddle of golden sunlight that streamed in from the bedroom window.  
  
"I suppose I don't know what to do now." Amara muttered to herself. "I told him to go away...but something in me wants to see him again." She had developed a craving, she realized.

She was addicted to Pyro.

* * *

**A/N:** Poor Amara never gets a break, does she? Oh how I torture her so! Ya gotta love deep, mushy, soul-searchingly long paragraphs ;). 

Oh, and for those of you who are sadly not acquaited with _la belle langue francaise_, here's some translations of Remy.

_Homme_= man

_Femme_= woman

_Peut-etre_= Maybe/Perhaps

There you are! Now, onwards!!!!

**StArRy1233:** We all love Pyro. Pyro is our friend. He makes insanity look cute!

**SperryDee:** Well, I think that Pyro will keep his word...for the moment. But now Amara's regretting her actions. Mwahahaa. You know that one of them will have to snap, or else the story wouldn't go anywhere!!

**Pietro's Kitten:** I had fun writing it lol. As I said before, the characters are wonderful to play with. :)

If you have questions, comments, Amyro referrals, criticisms or ideas, feel free to put your ideas into a review!! Thanks, you guys are the best!


	9. Attacked

I don't own X-men: Evolution

**Important note!!: This next chapter takes place a couple months along the timeline. The New Recruits are under attack (by Magneto) while on a wilderness survival thingy. The Senior Mutants don't know cause they're in Scotland with the Prof.**

* * *

_ "PhweeeeeEEEEEeeer!"_  
  
Amara winced as one of Jubilee's firecrackers screamed its way past her head to narrowly miss the metal-covered Acolyte.  
  
Amara powered up her hand, generating a fireball, and tossed it at the giant silver teenager, who was rapidly making his way closer to the beleaguered group of New Recruits.  
  
Magneto had succeeded in isolating the New Recruits; attacking while the senior team and the Professor were away in Scotland, while they themselves had accompanied Mr. McCoy on another wilderness trip. Amara cursed the name Legion; if it weren't for Xavier's family problems, Mr Logan and the others would have sent the Acolytes packing.  
  
Now they were barely holding up, trapped against the base of a mountain with Mr. McCoy off chasing Sabretooth.  
  
"Ray!" Amara shrieked, drawing Beserker's attention at once. "Fire at metal- man over there!"  
  
Ray sent a last zap off at the fleeting form of Sabretooth weaving through the trees after Beast. Concentrating, the boy known as Beserker charged up and fired at the huge Acolyte, who had nearly reached Amara.  
  
The electricity danced over Colossus' metal body, causing him to stiffen and fall to the ground, shifting back from his metal form into normal flesh and blood.  
  
Amara swept her gaze around the small group: Berserker, panting after that last exertion of energy; Rahne in wolf form going after the heels of the Acolyte in the trench coat while Jubilee threw fireworks at him; Roberto, blazing body flickering and in spots burning out completely from lack of energy; Cannonball, who had collapsed behind them after taking out Mastermind from behind.  
  
Mastermind himself lay unconscious, frozen to the ground by some of Bobby's ice. An ice path trailed its way up the mountain, marking where Bobby had taken Jamie; the latter being too young and inexperienced to fight, the former told numerous times to get the twelve-year-old Multiple to safety.  
  
She turned her attention back to the battle at hand, yelped, and ran to avoid one of Pyro's fiery blasts, nearly tripping over a groggy Sam.  
  
"Amara? What's going on now?"  
  
"We're under attack, remember?" She was about to say something else, but was interrupted by Ray's hoarse bellow:  
  
"Cut and run, guys! Here comes Magneto! Retreat! Run!"  
  
Sam got to his feet and wrapped his arms around Amara's waist, "Hold on tight..."  
  
"No, wait!" Amara pointed to Jubilee, who looked about to collapse. Rahne was already pelting her way into the forest, followed closely by Ray. Roberto was laboriously jogging off in a different direction from the other two. "I can run by myself, but Jubes looks about to faint. Take her; I'll find you guys later."  
  
"Okay." Sam ran over to Jubilee, gathered her up and was off like a shot.  
  
Amara sprinted into the woods, heading in a different direction from Ray. It was best to scatter for now, drawing attention away from each other, and then to regroup later on.

* * *

Pyro watched her run off, following the base of the mountain. He looked at his boss; Magneto watched impassively as his Acolytes waited for direction.  
  
"Follow them. I want them alive, remember."  
  
No sooner than the command was issued, Pyro turned on his flamethrowers; a winged horse soon stood ready and waiting for him. He jumped up onto his creation and soared off over the woods.

* * *

Amara slowed down; there was only so much running uphill that she could handle. A quick glance behind her showed that no-one was following her up the mountain. Spying a cave on the cliff face, Amara headed towards it. Perhaps she could regain her breath there, out of site, and then go find the others.  
  
She reached the mouth of the cave; it was shallow, only about 15 feet deep. If she stood on her tiptoes, she could brush the roof with her fingers. Quickly, she darted inside, and just as quickly again she whirled around to come face to face with the pyromaniac who seemed to haunt her.  
  
"Ello, 'Mara. Long toime no see." It actually had been around two months since that rainy day, but to Pyro it had seemed years.  
  
"John!" Wait a second. Since when was she on first-name terms with this guy?  
  
"You promised not to bother me any more!" She pointed an accusing finger at him.  
  
"Yes, I did. And believe me, sheila, I was as happy about it as you were." _Lying! Lying! Dingdingding!!_ "But I can't help it now. Boss's orders."  
  
"Magneto ordered you to bother me?" Amara's voice was laden with sarcasm.  
  
"Well, if you want to get technical, he ordered me t' foind you and 'old you prisoner until he gets one o' those big metal globes of his to pick us up." John smiled apologetically. "Sorry."  
  
"Sorry?! You're assisting in kidnapping and imprisonment against free will!" Amara pretended to think for a moment, "Oh, but you don't care anyway. You've done it before."  
  
"That's roight." He said cheerfully, drawing a line of fire across the mouth of the cave with one of his flamethrowers. "Now that's much more cozy, don't you think?"  
  
Amara once again found herself in a near-impossible situation. She was vulnerable to the flames unless she was in her Magma form. But if she shifted, John—Pyro—would just trap her with his powers. She doubted her powers over the tectonic plates would be much use here; she shuddered at the thought of the cave mouth collapsing to bury them alive. Perhaps she had a chance if she moved really fast...  
  
Pyro leaned against the cave wall, watching Amara out of the corner of his eye in case she decided to try anything. He noted interestedly that the heat of the fire kept her a good foot away from the flames; she wasn't immune to fire while human, unlike himself. Ah, Amara-watching. His new favourite pastime. 

He loved the way that her hips swayed almost imperceptibly as she walked; she probably was unconscious to the fact that they did. He loved the way that each time she saw him her eyes kindled, sparks almost seeming to fly out of them. He loved the way her hair danced whenever she turned into her fiery self...He loved—  
  
John's thoughts were interrupted as he saw the object of his affections take a flying leap into the flames, changing forms the split second before she passed through the line of fire.  
  
Cursing, he dismissed the flames and threw his power out desperately, catching and holding whatever flame there was left on Amara's body.  
  
Amara hissed in disappointment. She had been so close! She felt his power tugging on her own; digging her heels in, she resisted the pull until an extra hard heave on her powers sent her flying head over heels to crash right into the pyrokinetic himself.  
  
From his position on the ground, John drew the line of flames across the cave mouth once again, before looking back to Amara, who was sprawled on top of him in a rather compromising position. She was, he noted, still completely in her Magma form.  
  
"Dammit, Amara, if ya wanted me that much ya should've told me." Amara raised her head from its position on John's chest, ready to give an indignant reply, before seeing her actual position on top of him.  
  
Pyro looked into Amara's eyes with amusement, watching her facial expression change from one of rage to one of shock to finally one of deep embarrassment. He laughed.  
  
"Oh come on, 'Mara. I remember last time ya weren't so conservative." A sudden idea struck him, and he nearly giggled with the sheer evilness of it.  
  
Amara was just gathering up the shreds of her dignity and considering giving a biting reply when she found herself kissing the Australian yet again. She felt her hips moving and nearly screamed when she realized that he was using his power on her... to make her grind against him!

Her mouth opened to tell him to stop, but immediately Pyro slipped his tongue in, deepening the kiss and pressing her even harder against himself. She made a small noise of frustration; with her last vestiges of sanity—she was slipping fast—Amara bit down on John's tongue, forcing him to break the kiss.  
  
As soon as her mouth was free, Amara let Pyro have a piece of her mind on the subject of kissing.  
  
"You dirty son of a bitch! What the hell do you think you're doing? You think I like that kind of thing?"  
  
In return, John only smirked. "I don't think so, I know so."  
  
"Well maybe I do like it just a little bit, but it's still just wrong! I know practically nothing about you except that you work for the X-men's greatest enemy, and that's really not working in your favour right now." Amara's eyes blazed.  
  
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, sheila."  
  
"Sorry doesn't cut it. Let me up. Now." To her surprise, he complied, releasing his hold oh her.  
  
Amara shifted back to human and rolled off of him, scrambling to the furthest corner away from Pyro. She sat, turning her back to him, face to the wall.  
  
"Just leave me alone."  
  
Her slightly muffled words echoed around the cave as John beat himself up mentally. He had gone too far; the madness that he experienced whenever in contact with fire, coupled with his genuine attraction towards Amara had pushed him to make an instantly regrettable mistake. There was no way she'd ever warm up to him now.  
  
Sighing, he caused the flamethrower at his wrist to expel a tiny bit of flame. Removing his gloves, he silently modeled the fire with his bare hands, brooding.

* * *

**A/N**: Now I, the evil Authoress, will cut this chapter short, and (_dodges flying objects)_ I'll update soon, don't worry!!! 

Heh. Johnny-boy got a bit dirty, and Amara will not tolerate it! Tension...tension...TENSION! And I also noticed that Tabby was randomly excluded from the New Recruits. Oh well. She can be in Scotland too...somehow...

Agh, how am I ever going to write them out of this predicament without making it all cliched?

_(chanting)_ I will not write smut, I will not write smut....someone else can :)

**Pietro's Kitten**: I like your amyro story! The plot has real potential! This world does not have enough amyro in it to keep me satisfies...must read more...lol :)

**amyro 4evah**: Your name says it all! :) Yes, I shall update!


	10. Hurt

I don't own X-men: Evolution or "The Paper Bag Princess" by Robert Munsch

* * *

Time slowed to a crawl, the minutes ticking by interminably. Where his teammates were, Pyro neither knew nor cared; he played with the fire in his hands, trying to think of a solution to dissolve the stalemate that had frozen the atmosphere in the cave.  
  
Amara sat miserably at first, not daring to light the smallest part of herself, even to relieve her boredom by moulding the rocks around herself. Gradually, though, curiosity and idle mindedness overcame her apprehension, and she turned to observe her jailer and tormenter.  
  
Pyro was making shapes with a flame that danced before him. First, a dragon swooped down to incinerate a castle with one fiery breath before making off with a figure in its burning talons. Only one figure was left hovering by the "wreckage" of the fire castle; a girl.  
  
Amara watched with hidden delight as the story of "_The Paper Bag Princess_" by Robert Munsch was played out mutely before her eyes. She fondly remembered sitting and reading that same story to Jamie Madrox just after Christmas; he had insisted that she know what it was about.  
  
She hoped that Jamie and Bobby had gotten away all right. She hoped that all of her friends and Mr. McCoy had found their separate ways to safety. Whatever Magneto wanted with them, it was guaranteed not to be good. 

She shuddered and turned her eyes to the line of fire that still roared across the cave mouth. Awaiting an unknown fate, kept captive by a guy who she couldn't figure out; an unpredictable pyromaniac who confused her to no end.  
  
As if hearing her thoughts, Pyro looked up and locked eyes with her own. Amara froze, willing herself not to look away. Tension crackled between them as her chocolate brown stare held his intense and frenetic blue one. John's expression didn't change in the slightest as he brought his palm up to face level, looking at her over a ball of orange flame.  
  
John concentrated, holding up his end of the staring match while pouring his thoughts, his feelings, his emotions into the fireball that he held before himself. He hoped desperately that his idea would work; summoning up all the feelings that he held for Amara, he shoved them into the swirling flames and let go.  
  
Amara, to her credit, didn't scream or duck as the fireball shot directly at her from across the cave. The Nova Roman princess shifted as quickly as thought; the fireball hit her squarely in the chest and sank in, absorbed by her own flames. Amara was about to shift back when she suddenly experienced a strange surge of emotions not her own.  
  
Her eyes narrowed. She knew what he was doing, and was about to reciprocate when the thoughts overwhelmed her. This is what Rogue must feel like, she thought vaguely, putting a hand to her head in a vain effort to stop her mind from reeling. She felt disoriented, out of control; in a battle for mastery of her mind against an unwelcome intrusion. But that was when the thought-sentences bubbled to the surface of her consciousness.  
  
_ She's so beautiful...I'm such an idiot!  
  
Argh! John you fool, what have you done to her?  
  
I hope she will forgive me.  
  
Amara, I love you.  
  
I just can't tell you how sorry I am.  
  
I hope that this idea works; I don't think I can stand this silence any longer..._  
  
Amara felt her resolve soften, but reformed her shields quickly. Her eyes hardened as she thought of his violation of her freedom, his carefree manner in kissing her without consent, his assumption that she liked it—true or not. Raising a molten finger, she conjured a fireball, and forced her own feelings, thoughts and emotions into it. She took the flame and lobbed it gently towards Pyro, who had been watching her with hope and fear in his eyes.  
  
John forced himself not to flinch as the fire splattered on his chest, dancing harmlessly over his body until he was sheathed in a thin, flickering glow. Pyro felt Amara's awareness awakening in his mind, and tried his best to prepare for the onslaught of emotion that crashed into his consciousness. Soon, the boiling mass of feeling gave rise to thought- sentences; he cringed at the first few.  
  
_ What did he just do to me? What's happening?  
  
Oh no, I'm trapped in a cave with a perverted psychopath!  
  
What am I going to do? How am I going to get out of here without endangering myself or getting into another one of those awful situations?  
  
Why can't Pyro just let me go? He can lie and say he never saw me...no, Mastermind would find out.  
  
Look at him just sitting there. Does he actually care for me like he says?  
  
Don't kid yourself, Amara. He's just having a good time while following orders. You're a perk...his amusement until Magneto shows up.  
_  
_ He says he loves me, does he? Well, does he even really consider what I want?_  
  
The emotions that went along with the thoughts ranged from frightened to confused to bitterness. Not what Pyro had been looking for at all. But there was hope; he knew from her inner feelings that she had a compassionate streak; forgiveness was something that he could work towards.  
  
He looked towards her again, the fire that caressed his skin fading into wisps of smoke. She was so beautiful in that blazing form of hers...but her eyes were hard as coals as she stared at him, no emotion in her face whatsoever.  
  
When Amara noticed his eyes on her, she slowly shifted back to human, reluctantly letting go of the warmth in exchange for a measure of control over her own actions. There was no telling what he would do to her.  
  
John watched sadly as she shifted back. She didn't trust him anymore. Perhaps she never had, but now that mistrust had become part of her being.  
  
A clicking of metal on stone brought his attention to the cave mouth. Dispelling the flames that guarded the cave mouth, Pyro revealed the silver orb that would take himself and his prisoner back to Magneto's base. He got up, pulling his gloves on.  
  
"Come on. We don't have all day."  
  
All she did was glare at him. He sighed and tried again, hating himself for being the cause of her hostility.  
  
"Listen, sheila. You can just hop in there noice and easy, or we could do it the hard way."  
  
John used his flamethrowers to create a fiery guard holding a spear, which walked across the cave and offered Amara its hand. She didn't change expression, but totally ignored the guard, getting up and walking unassisted to stand in front of the orb. Right before she got in, she sheathed her hand in magma and threw a ball of the molten rock to splatter right on the rock beside the cave mouth. Once done, she hopped into the orb.  
  
Pyro shrugged. Dispelling his guard, he got in the orb alongside the girl; it closed and immediately took off.

* * *

**A/N:** Agh, the trials of being original! I could have made Amara hate Pyro, or make her project feelings of hate towards him so that he in turn hated her, but I think that I wouldn't be able to write myself out of that predicament. Here's my excuse: 

Amara is naturally a kind person. She tries to see both sides of the issue, and she knows the values of forgive and forget.

However, Pyro has just destroyed whatever trust she had in him, and she really does not like being played around with, therefore she's not exactly liking him too much now.

Pyro's just crazy. I don't really know what to do with his character. Meh. It'll work out in the end.

Rrrg, there's like no dialogue in this chapter!! No fun!! I'll try for more next time; writing all this deep soul-searchingly sappy crap is draining me. But it is a necessary part of the plotline. Now on to review answers!

**VangieGirl:** I'm trying not to be cliche. Don't worry; Amara's a princess, of course she won't cave first. She'll make Pyro come crawling to her for forgiveness...mwahaha

**amyro 4evah:** Yes, yes you did say that before. I'm trying my best, gimme a break. Sheesh...lol :)

**childrenwithblades:** I hate it when ff.net does that! It happens all the time! Thanks, I'm glad you like the plotline. I've read a couple of your stories, and I liked the plots...especially the baby Pietro one...so funny! I'm not really a big fan of slash however...I like to keep John with Amara lol.


	11. Captive

I don't own X-men: Evolution

* * *

St John sat hunched over, eyeing the rest of the Acolytes from his position on the chair. He snapped his lighter opened and shut as he listened to his boss blather on about some unimportant detail...John's thoughts were drifting elsewhere.  
  
"Homme, could you stop it wit' de lighter, s'il te plait?" Remy's irritated voice brought John back to earth with a thump.  
  
"Sorry, mate. I'll try'n keep the flames down to a minimum." He flashed a toothy smile.  
  
"It's not de fire so much as de noise. Mon Dieu, but my head hurts." The Cajun's voice sank down to a growly mumble as Magneto turned his head their way.  
  
"And AS I was saying..." Eric Lensherr glared at them for a moment before turning his head away, "If we want this plan to work, the captive students will have to be kept under constant vigilance. I think that seeing as we have two captives and two Acolytes in need of maturity and a sense of responsibility..." He glared at John and Remy again, "You boys will help our new...guests...feel right at home."  
  
The "guests" in question exchanged nervous glances. Amara had no idea how Roberto had been captured, but she hoped fervently that they could get out soon. She had no desire to spend the next few days under the watchful eye of an Acolyte. Glancing over at St John, she made up her mind to try and be paired up with Remy—Rogue had always held out for the fact that Remy wasn't like the other Acolytes...supposedly he was a good person under the trench coat and flirty personality.  
  
John looked across the room at Amara; she was sitting mutely besier her dark-skinned teammate, watching the proceedings without expression. He resolutely made up his mind to be paired up with her; there was a mistake he had to correct, and besides, Rmy might have sworn he'd given up his flirtatious ways for Rogue, but Pyro wanted to be on the safe side.  
  
Magneto, in the meantime, was finishing up his spiel: "...and so I'd like Pyro to have the girl, while Remy, you take care of the boy. I don't trust you around females any more."  
  
Amara felt her hopes plummet. She would have to spend the rest of her duration here being dogged by Pyro. Just great. She looked at him again; he was grinning cheerfully at her as if the cave incident had never occurred. She quickly dropped her eyes to stare at her feet; when she raised them again it was to stare right into John's bright blue orbs about three inches away from her face.  
  
Disregarding her squeak of surprise, Pyro took her by the elbows and set her gently on her feet.  
  
"Well come on then, sheila. I'll give ya the grand tour, howzat?" Still smiling happily, Pyro grabbed her wrist in a grip like iron and commenced dragging her out of the room after himself. Amara rolled her eyes and clamped her lips together. The silent treatment would have to work for now.  
  
John chatted away to her in a carefree matter as if he didn't notice the stony silence of his female charge. "So, here's the kitchen, roight next t' the TV room...moind the little step. There! Okay, and up these stairs is the bathroom, to yer left, then down this 'ere hall is the bedrooms."  
  
He stopped suddenly, turning back to Remy (who had been following with Roberto in tow) with a quizzical look on his face. "D'you 'ave any oidea where our guests are sleepin?"  
  
"I have taken liberty to prepare adjacent rooms for our new...friends." Magneto's voice boomed from behind them, deliberately (Amara noticed) avoiding the use of the word 'prisoners'. "Piotr is only just preparing the connecting doors..."  
  
_Connecting doors? What the heck?_ The four people turned to regard the Master of Magnetism standing at the foot of the stairs.  
  
"Yes. I have decided that the only way for you to enter into the hall will be through the room of the Acolyte who has charge of you. That way the risks of...escape...will be diminished somewhat. The doors connecting directly from your respective rooms to the halls will be boarded shut, I am sorry. This is but a precaution." And with that, Magneto walked away.  
  
St John's expression didn't alter once; he remained carefully cheerful. "Alroight then, that's settled. Uhhh, moy room's just over here." He pushed the door on the right side of the hall open, and Amara was forced to follow into Pyro's bedroom.  
  
It was very sparsely furnished, almost Spartan; a bed, with a table beside it, and a dresser were the only pieces of furniture. From the scorch marks on the walls, Amara suspected that Pyro had burned any other flammable items within the room.  
  
Colossus stood against the far wall, nailing a handle onto a new-looking door. He finished driving in the last spike and stood up, nodding solemnly to Amara and her captor. "John. I have finished the door. There is no lock, but I trust it will be adequate. Good day." And with that, the Russian left, closing the door to the hall behind him.  
  
Amara stood for a moment, looking around silently. Then slowly, deliberately, she stalked over to the newly constructed door and went into 'her' room, slamming the door on her way in.  
  
St John sighed. What a mess.

* * *

"Jubilee, Rahne, Ray, Bobby, Jamie, Sam..." Hank McCoy's voice trailed off as he looked around the tired and dispirited group, who (after much running and confusion) had all ultimately ended up back at the campsite. "Does anyone know what might have happened to Roberto or Amara?"  
  
"I—Roberto was following me, Mr. McCoy. He was right behind me...and then he wasn't." Ray's voice was miserable. He should have been looking out for the rest of the group...but instead he had run. "I don't know what...I don't know what happened."  
  
"Amara told me to take Jubes and run," Sam volunteered, wearily passing a hand over his eyes. "She said she wasn't tired...that she could make it. I thought she could too."  
  
Rahne, too exhausted to morph out of her wolf form, whined from her sprawled out position on the ground.  
  
Hank made a swift decision. "We're demoralized, exhausted, and very likely to be attacked again. I want you, Bobby," He picked out the oldest of the group, "to drive everyone back to the mansion. I will wait here until tomorrow for Amara and Roberto; they are both smart kids, and I think that if they do not show up after twenty-four hours there is a good chance that they are no longer in the vicinity."  
  
"But, Mr. McCoy—"  
  
"No buts, Mr. Madrox. You will be safe at the mansion...try to contact the Professor to tell him what has happened. Please co-operate with me on this."  
  
"Yes sir."

* * *

Amara sat on the cot that was the only piece of furniture in the small room, looking out the window. She hoped that Mr. McCoy and her friends were alright, and that they would come to look for her soon. 

She grimaced, thinking of her predicament. Stuck in a small room, the only doorway of which was connected to the room of a boy who was her enemy. A boy who said he loved her. A boy who randomly kissed her with so much passion...It was like some bad romance novel sprung from the twisted mind of an author with writer's block.  
  
She stared at the door moodily. Time for escape planning. Or sleep. Suddenly, all the exhaustion of the day came flooding back to her—hiking, fighting, running, fighting some more...Sleep was a very good idea.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay my friends. Amara is not liking St John. Nor the situation in which she has found herself. What exactly was up with her shooting the magma at the cave entrance at the end of last chapter? Will the X-men come in time to save her from Magneto's evil plans? What ARE Magneto's evil plans? Will John and Amara ever be reconciled?

All these questions and more will be answered next time...on "A general helping of fluff" !!!!!

Now, on to the **two reviews**!! (Come on, people. I'm a writer. My ego is suffering something terrible here. Review...please?)

**The Uncanny R-Man:** Love the name. Thanks for the praise, I shall cherish it to my heart forever. lol. Amyro is amazing, isn't it?

**Pietro's Kitten:** Yes, angst has this tendency to pop up in stories of mine, doesn't it? Well, I'm trying to work towards fluff, but Amara isn't letting me. She's still a little mad. Your story is quite amazing I must say, after reading two chapters of it, I'm hooked. Keep on writing, you're really very good at it.


	12. Discovered

I don't own X-men: Evolution

* * *

Pyro leaned against the frame of the door that separated his room from Amara's, watching her sleep. She looked so peaceful, the locks of her brown hair that hung down in front of her face fluttering slightly as she breathed, the last rays of the dying sun retreating across her features, painting them exotic ochre. She had been sleeping for about three now, no doubt exhausted from the day's events.  
  
He felt guilt coursing through him. Not just for having distanced her from himself by his previous...actions... (though that was enough to make him want to kick himself repeatedly), but because of what he now knew after Magneto's debrief not fifteen minutes ago. 

St John really hadn't cared about what the Acolytes did in the name of mutant superiority when he had originally signed up for the job. Any occupation that let him play with fire as much as he wanted was fine by him. He even got nice pay bonuses out of it. Now, however...  
  
Before he had met Amara, John Allerdyce hadn't given a damn about others because of his lack of attachments; there was nobody for him in the world, just people who were against him. He hadn't cared if anyone got hurt.  
  
But now Magneto had gone too far, in Pyro's opinion. Amara and her friend –Roberto, Pyro remembered now—were to be told that they were being kept merely as hostages. In reality, their collective powers would be used to fuel a new machine that Magneto had built; a machine that had the ability to alter the DNA of any humans within the area until they were mutants as well.  
  
Normally, Pyro wouldn't really have cared, except that Amara's power would be used until she was sucked dry...exhausted, drained and possibly even until death. His insides seemed to curl up like paper in the middle of a flame at the thought of it. He gazed at Amara, lying innocently on the bed. She hadn't done anything to deserve that. It shouldn't happen...  
  
A sudden soft knocking on his door brought St John out of his reverie. Softly closing the door to Amara's room, he opened the other, and was met by the intensely burning eyes of his fellow Acolyte Remy Lebeau.  
  
"D'you 'ave a minute, homme?" Remy walked in as Pyro silently opened the door further. "T'anks."  
  
Pyro held a finger to his lips as he shut the door. "Be a bit quoieter, mate. The sheila's asleep."  
  
"What I 'ave to say merits whispering, mon ami." Gambit sat down on the bed, then sprang up and started to pace up and down. "I—you 'eard what de boss said a little while ago, non? About de machine and de students and whatnot?" His accent was thicker than ever, a sure sign that he was agitated about something.  
  
"Yeah, I did. And I ain't happy about it, I c'n tell ya that. Noither are you from the looks of it, mate."  
  
"Non, dis Cajun t'inks dat ol' Mag's 'as gone too far dis time. Mebbe bein' wit' Rogue has softened me some, but I jus' can't help him with that kind of thing." Remy looked at John, who was sitting comfortably on the bed, watching his pacing. "We gotta get 'em out of here."  
  
"I'm with ya all the way, mate, but there's still Sabretooth to consider. He's with Magneto on this, he doesn't care."  
  
"Remy knows dis. We've just gotta wait till Sabes takes a walk; he always does dat. De machine ain't gonna be activated for t'ree days yet, an' I t'ink I c'n get Piotr in on de plans. He's de homme wit' de morals. In de meantime, I gain de boy's trust while you gain dat of de girl." Remy gave St John a sly look. "Though if she's who I t'ink she is, dat should already have been done..."  
  
Pyro sighed glumly. "I'm gonna need yer help with that, mate. I—made a mistake, and now I don't know if she'll ever forgive me."  
  
"Well, out wit' it. Maybe dis Cajun can help you."

* * *

Amara listened to the soft conversation for a few minutes from her position on the bed; she had awoken to the sound of footsteps and a door closing. Curiousity finally overcame her, and she carefully made her way over to sit down by the door, pressing her ear to the crack to be able to hear the words a bit better.  
  
She flushed a deep red as she realized that St John was talking about what had happened between them in the cave...How dare he?! But after a few more sentences she came to realize that he was not, in fact, boasting; on the contrary his voice was full of misery and self-loathing. She rested her head against the door, settling in to listen to the rest of what he had to say.  
  
"...and now she barely talks t' me. Every time she just looks at me I feel like dirt. I said I was sorry, but she won't forgive me. Wot do I do? How can I make 'er trust me again?"  
  
Amara barely had time to process the full meaning carried within these words when a new voice cut in, thick with an accent that she didn't recognize.  
  
"Well, mon ami, you could always..." the voice trailed off into a series of indistinguishable mutters; the words were lost within the deepness of the male voice plus the accent.  
  
"Remy!" St John's voice sounded shocked. "I will not do that to 'Mara, you sicko! Wot d'you take me for anyways? Hell, I'm in love with her! Would you do that to someone you love? Loike Rogue?"  
  
"It was only a suggestion, homme, calm down. Non, I wouldn't do that to my chere; I was only jokin wit' ya, Johnny."  
  
"Well, it was a bad joke then. You need practice. Now give me some real advice."  
  
Amara sat, stunned by the intensity of Pyro's voice and his vehement declaration of love for her. Perhaps she would have to go over her own feelings in regards to St John; her emotions were a tangled mess. Getting up, she went over to her bed; she didn't really want to hear the rest of the conversation. She had heard all that she needed to for now.

* * *

The exact same thought ran through someone else's mind: a pair of yellow eyes gleamed as their owner slipped away from his position under the window.

* * *

"Ms Munroe? Is that you?" Bobby Drake's voice nearly cracked with relief. After about half an hour of searching, the remaining New Recruits had finally located the telephone number for Moira McTaggert's laboratory in Scotland.  
  
"Yes, Bobby. What is the matter?" The ever-calm voice of his teacher replied, slightly muffled by the distance.  
  
"Oh, Ms Munroe, are you able to get the X-men back to Bayville as quick as possible? There's been...a problem." He really didn't want to have to explain things over and over again.  
  
"It sounds serious. Of course, we are just finishing our visit here; we'll be back by early morning tomorrow."  
  
"Thanks, Ms Munroe. And please hurry."

* * *

Hank McCoy, aka "The Beast", loped up the mountainside, looking about for any signs that his two missing students may have previously been in the area. It was getting dark; the sun had just gone down under the horizon, the sky rapidly fading from deep blue to black.  
  
Beast rounded a bend and stopped. Before him was a small cave that seemed to go back several feet into the mountain, big enough to situate a large bear or pack of wolves. But that wasn't what caught his eye; rather, his interest was drawn to the black marks suggesting fire around the entrance. 

Moving closer, he noticed there were words in the rock; not written on in any sort of ink, but etched about an inch thick, concise and clear, in the living rock of the mountainside.  
  
TAKEN BY PYRO TO MAGNETO  
  
"Clever Amara..." Hank chuckled and turned, almost skipping on his way back to the campsite. The little princess had given him all the information he needed in five words.

* * *

Amara was awakened at what she deemed to be around six in the morning by muffled voices and the sound of scuffling from the room next to hers. Getting out of bed, she tiptoed over to the door; opening it a crack, she peeped into Pyro's room. What she saw made her eyes widen in surprise and fear.  
  
A half-naked Pyro was struggling to get free of Sabretooth's grasp, his wide blue eyes looking over the gag that covered the bottom half of his face to glare at Magneto, who stood watching imperiously. From the looks of it, St John had been dragged forcibly out of bed; his hair was standing every which way and he was wearing only boxers.  
  
"I am most disappointed with you, Mr. Allerdyce," Magneto was saying, almost conversationally, to the boy held captive by brutal measures before his eyes. "I had hoped you would share my zeal for mutant superiority, but I see you do not have the stomach to go through with the necessary procedures required for our ultimate takeover of the human race. I don't know whether to trust you any more."  
  
St John winced, not at the words, but because at the words 'ultimate takeover', Sabretooth's claws had dug cruelly into the skin of his upper arms; he could feel a tickle as the blood slowly ran down from the puncture wounds. If Sabretooth had indeed heard his conversation with Remy...what about Remy? Hopefully, the older Acolyte hadn't been caught—  
  
"Hey Dad." A blur came to rest beside Magneto, revealing itself to be Pietro. "I just finished locking the Cajun and Sunboy up." Pietro turned to look at Pyro, smirking. "Yeah, you hoped that your buddy wouldn't have been caught, didn't you? Ha. Too bad so sad for you."  
  
Amara had been caught off guard by Pietro's sudden entrance, and her hand on the door handle wavered, causing the door to move slightly. In an instant, she found her hands held behind her back by Pietro, and force- marched into the centre of the room to stand near Pyro.  
  
"Oh, lookylookylooky. We have a little birdy on our hands." Pietro sneered, pulling Amara into him. "And what a pretty little birdy she is too..." He murmured, his breath hot on the back of her neck.  
  
Amara lost it. Already in a tense situation, her nerve was pushed to the breaking point, and she flared up to become Magma. Bowing her head forward, she suddenly snapped it back, so that her skull hit Pietro's forehead. Caught by surprise, he dropped like a stone. Amara whirled to shoot a blast of fire at Sabretooth, who immediately let go of St John to leap out of the way of the fire.  
  
Pyro landed on all fours, sitting, he tore out the gag and was about to use some of Amara's flame on Magneto when an iron bar slammed him to the floor again. He hit his head and blacked out.  
  
Amara watched John fall, and was caught by another bar to go crashing to the floor. _Fine_, she thought grimly, _if that's the way it's going to be..._ She concentrated and focused her heat, becoming so hot that the metal bar melted like butter to pool on the floor beside her. 

Incidentally, the floor caught fire as well.  
  
"Mastermind! Mastermind!" Magneto was calling someone, his voice registering dimly in the crackle of flames that filled Amara's ears. She aimed a fireball at the Master of Magnetism; he dodged it, still yelling out that one word.

She conjured up another fireball, this time for Sabretooth, when it occurred to her that being in her Magma form wasn't what she wanted to do at all.  
  
_Wait...yes it is. I want to barbeque Magneto for capturing me..._  
  
No you don't. Magneto's just trying to help you.  
  
_He is?  
_  
Yes, of course he is. Magneto wants you to help him with something, so that he in turn is able to help you.  
  
_That...sounds reasonable.  
_  
Somewhere in her mind, a little voice was yelling and screaming that NO! That was NOT what she wanted to do at all, but she ignored it. It was far easier for her fuzzy consciousness just to go along with what the calm, reasonable voice said.  
  
She extinguished her flame.  
  
That's good, very good. Now...  
  
The next thing Amara knew was a pricking sensation right at the back of her neck; a burning spread throughout her body and she dropped, senseless, to the floor.

* * *

**A/N:** Mmmm...half-naked Pyro...

This is just me, telling you that I blatantly ripped off the "mutant making machine" (or M3 as I shall now refer to it) from the X-men Movie. I was out of ideas, okay? Well, I put a lot of stuff into this chapter that I hope got across through all the murky descriptions and awkward conversations. Lemme outline it for y'all.

--John and Remy don't like the M3 plan

--John asks Remy for help to get Amara back

--Amara starts listening in

--Sabes also listens in and reports back to Buckethead

--Storm says the X-men will be back by morning

--Beast finds out (from Amara's message in chapter...10 I think) where they are

--Remy and Roberto are locked up for treason

--Pyro is about to be locked up when Amara stumbles into Buckethead's "lecture", and screws it up by trying to save the day.

--She ends up surrendering to Mastermind.

Bwahahaha...I'm so evil. But I couldn't have them get rescued before John and Amara get all fluffy now could I? The end is near, my friends.

Oh, and use your imaginations to think of what Remy suggested to John. I find that not stating the fact produces far more interesting results within the minds of the readers...cause everyone has their own opinion on how dirty Remy's mind is.

**about to fall off computer chair for lack of sleep:** Yes, John shall apologize. And yes, Magneto is intensely mental, as you say. I like that: intensely mental. Mwahahahaha...ahem.

**HanatheWreck**: Thank you! Yes, I shall keep this coming; I rather want to get it over with now...John and Amara's lack of resolution is irking me. Why can't I just get to the fluffy parts?? Glad you like the story! :)

**Pietro's Kitten**: Lol, John's accent is amazing. Hooray for you continuing your story!!! I'm glad you didn't stop; it's a great start, and I really am looking forwards to seeing how it turns out. Just keep writing, even if there is lack of interest!! Amyros all the way!! :)


	13. Wounds

I don't own X-men: Evolution

* * *

Amara opened her eyes, blinking groggily. Her head hurt like hell, as if there was a huge hammer repeatedly pounding at the base of her skull. She slowly became aware that she was in a sitting position, her back resting against a warm chest that rose and fell rhythmically. A pair of arms encircled her waist, ostensibly to keep her from falling sideways.  
  
She lifted her head away from its resting position in the hollow of the person's shoulder and turned. She was met with a pair of brilliant sapphire eyes looking straight into her own. She had been sleeping on Pyro.  
  
In a sudden rush, memories came flooding back to Amara. St John, being held by Sabretooth, Magneto telling Pyro that he had found out about his talk...what talk? The only words that she remembered were that of St John, heatedly telling Remy that he loved Amara.  
  
_He loves me_... the thought danced through her mind as she looked into St John's face. He had a pleading, sorrowful look in his eyes, as if all had been lost. Amara didn't give a second thought to what she did next.  
  
Twisting, she threw her arms around John's neck and brought her lips up to his in a passionate and fiery kiss. After a startled moment, he retaliated, hugging her closer than ever to himself, deepening the kiss until Amara started to feel dizzy from the sheer intensity of it.

She broke it off, leaning back to gaze once more into his eyes. "Say it."  
  
"I'm sorry, 'Mara. I really do love you."  
  
"I know, John. I forgive you." She brought her arms to encircle his waist, snuggling into the warmth of his bare chest.  
  
"Thank-you, luv." He said softly, voice breaking. He held her there in his arms, planting a kiss in her hair, enjoying what brief moment he had with her there in the cell.

* * *

After a while, Amara looked up, taking in their surroundings. They were in a small, square cell, cement walls studded occasionally with metal rings or chains. The door was the same sort of affair, with only an iron grill at the very top to let in any light. It was cold, but at least it was dry. Well, she could remedy the cold part of it.  
  
Scooting a little ways away from Pyro, she concentrated...then cried out as her head pounded even more fiercely.  
  
John was at her side in an instant. "Wot's wrong, luv?"  
  
"My head, it hurts so much...and I can't use my powers!" A hint of panic edged into Amara's voice with that revelation. What had happened?  
  
"I know, 'Mara." John sighed. "Moine's gone as well. Magneto's injected us with some koind of power-blocking chemical...I've seen it before. I think it only lasts for six hours or so, it's not permanent. Ol' Mags don't want that, I'm afraid." 

"Why not? Wouldn't it be safer for him just to get rid of our powers altogether?"  
  
"Well, he's got plans fer your powers, luv. Most loikely fer moine as well." Pyro sighed and sat back to lean against the wall again. "Y'see, he's got this machine thing that needs lots of energy to work. He's gonna use our powers t' do it." _And most likely kill us_, he added silently.  
  
"Shit, that's not good." Amara closed her eyes and winced as her head gave another throb of pain. "Yowch...I'm glad I left a note for the X-men back at the cave. They'll know what to do."  
  
"Amara, yer brilliant, ya know that? If Magneto's got me an' Remy under lock and key, the on'y people he's got on his team are Sabretooth and Piotr." Pyro chuckled. "Piotr's never happy about foightin' the X-men, ya know that? He's got morals...more'n me and Remy have put together."  
  
"Why does he work for Magneto then?" Amara was curious; the Russian Acolyte was the one that the mansion had the least information on.  
  
"Well, Mags has bin blackmailing the poor feller since before he formed the Acolytes. Threatened his family, all that sort of thing. So he has to foight."  
  
"Magneto really doesn't have any problems with ruining the lives of others, does he?"  
  
"Nope. He does it for a "better future", though, so who are we to argue?" John's tone was ironic.  
  
Amara sighed, looking around the cell once more. "So. What do we do now?"  
  
"Wait." John gave a humourless chuckle. "Watch the clock and wait. Until your friends come to get us, or Magneto does. In a best case scenario, we get our powers back before either."

He got up and stretched, feeling his spine crackle as he bent sideways, wincing as he stretched his arms over his head. The puncture wounds caused by Sabretooth, four little holes in a neat row down each of his arms with a corresponding solitary hole on the other side, cracked open, small trickles of blood making their ways down his arms. He sighed and sat down again, a little ways away from Amara.  
  
Amara's eyes widened at the blood that made its way in small rivulets down Pyro's arms, creating a red streamer-like effect down to his wrists. Silently, she moved closer to him, taking his forearm gently in her hands, she inspected the wounds.

"John...did Sabretooth do this?"

"Yeah...he had a problem with moi unwillingness ta co-operate with Magneto. They're not too deep, but it hurts loike bloody 'ell."  
  
Amara cast her gaze around the cell, searching for anything that would make a good bandage. She had just taken a First Aid course, and knew how to improvise, but there really was nothing to improvise with. The cell didn't even have a bed; John was only in his boxers, so no extra material there...she looked down at herself.  
  
She was still wearing the red t-shirt and jean capris that she had put on yesterday morning, before the fight. The jeans were definitely out for bandage material, so that left her shirt.  
  
Amara looked over at St John. He was tentatively poking at one of the holes, wincing as a spurt of newer blood gushed out. The other holes were still bleeding profusely, painting most of his upper body a bright red.  
  
She sighed, and tore off the bottom half of her shirt, not without much growling and cursing on her part. In the end, she was left with just enough material to cover her.... more intimate attributes, and a large wad of red material in her hand. She ripped this in half, and approached John, who had been watching her appraisingly the whole time, head tilted to the side like a puzzled puppy.  
  
"Give me your arm," She instructed, readying the material.  
  
When he complied, she wrapped the material as many times as it could go around his arm, tying it off with a neat slipknot. She did this to the other arm as well, so that afterwards John had two matching armbands to soak up and hopefully stop the blood flow to the outside of his arm.  
  
Amara sat back, feeling rather pleased with herself at the result of her First Aid knowledge put to practical use.  
  
"Now, I wonder what's going on in here?"  
  
The feeling immediately dissipated as she looked up to see Pietro Maximoff standing, shadowed, in the doorway to the cell.

* * *

A/N: Mwahahahaha...Cliffie! But I'm posting the next chapter right away anyways, so it's no big deal. Here's some more fluff for y'all. I'm trying not to make it sound forced but it's kinda hard... so I enter Pietro!!

Don't get me wrong. I LOVE Pietro. It's just that I needed a bad guy, someone to sort of put things off balance in the next chapter, and Pietro fit the bill perfectly. Please don't flame me...Please?

Pietro's Kitten: Thanks! O yes, I had to put in the half-naked Pyro. And guess what? He's half naked in this chapter AND the next one. Hehehehe...

Flames: Yeah, Mastermind's not my favourite either, but he's....not really necessary either, come to think of it. But he came in handy for my story :). So he can't be all bad....lol.

Lady Sir Henry Morgan: Thank you so much! Wow, you checked the three cool boxes! I am forever in your debt! lol, you're amazing :)


	14. Jealousy

I don't own X-men: Evolution

* * *

Pietro stepped partway into the cell, the light revealing the arrogantly handsome smirk stamped across his features. His gaze fell upon St John, with matching armbands, then moved to Amara, taking in her torn up shirt –or lack thereof--, his eyes raking up and down her body in a way that made Amara very uncomfortable.  
  
Pyro noticed this and moved closer to Amara, putting his arm around her, he drew her closer to himself.  
  
Pietro, taken aback a little, recovered quickly and sneered, "Oh, I see how it is now, Pyro. You've found your very own little whore to take care of you and your...needs, now is it?"  
  
Without warning, Pyro lunged forwards, taking Pietro by surprise and toppling him to the ground. He managed to get two wild punches in before the speed demon was back up again. Swiftly, Pietro kicked John in the stomach, driving all the air out of his lungs. As Pyro doubled over, Pietro took this as his chance to attack; his fists barely visible as they rained fast, hard punches down on John's prostrate body.  
  
Amara's eyes widened as she watched John fall into unconsciousness; Pietro looked bent on beating him to death!  
  
"Stop it! Pietro, stop, leave him alone!" She made a grab for his wrist, but she might as well have been trying to trap air. She drew back her arm and drove it towards Pietro's face, which for the moment was still. He caught her wrist in midair, momentarily halting his vicious onslaught.  
  
"You've gotta be just a tiny bit faster there, girl. Amara, is it?" Pietro said amusedly, "And what if I don't want to stop, huh? What are you able to do about it?"  
  
"If-if you kill him, Magneto won't be able to use his power for that machine of his."  
  
"Like I care. Father can always just get someone else, there's way more mutants out there." Pietro shrugged nonchalantly. "You can't make me stop unless you're willing to give me something I want."  
  
Amara caught the innuendo right away. "You're sick, you know that? I used to believe that you weren't that bad of a guy, just a bit arrogant. Now I know better."  
  
"Hey, that's the way the world works, sweetheart. Regrettably, I really have pressing matters elsewhere. But if you're into doing favours, don't hesitate to ask me." He winked and leered at her. "You can bet I'm a hundred times better than this loser." He kicked Pyro's limp form contemptuously.  
  
Pietro turned to go, and then paused. "Oh, I was supposed to give you guys a message. You have an hour before Father activates that machine. I suggest you use it wisely." He laughed then. "I'm fast, you know. If you really want me to I can make it so that you don't have to die a virgin."  
  
Amara's face clouded; that was _it_! "Leave us alone, Pietro! Just go follow some orders or whatever it is that lackeys do, but don't come near me again!"  
  
She barely had time to blink before she felt two hands grip her shoulders and pull her backwards to lean flush against a male body. Heat flooded her body as she felt his lips on the nape of her neck. 

"This is near to you, girl. And I can't keep that promise." Pietro's voice murmured, and then he was gone, the cell door clanging shut behind him.  
  
Amara sat for a moment, a little stunned, then rubbed the back of her neck in disgust erasing all feeling of the speed demon's mouth. She shuddered in revulsion before crawling over to where Pyro lay, facedown on the rough concrete.  
  
She grabbed his shoulder and flipped him over, scooching back so that she could rest her back against the wall. Hauling on his torso, she got St John into a half-sitting position, his head resting on her chest, his own upper body supported by her knees on either side. She smiled wryly at the irony of the situation; this was the position she had woken up in around an hour ago, only the roles had been reversed. She wondered how long she had been out for.  
  
Looking down at John, she saw that he was rapidly forming bruises, and that the bare skin of his chest was dotted with small grains of cement and dirt from the floor of the cell. Hesitating for only a moment, she passed her hand over his skin, loosening the dirt and brushing it to the floor.

Once that was done, she sat back and sighed. Not much to do now but wait.

* * *

Remy sighed and repositioned his fingers on the knife handle. Surely it couldn't be THAT difficult to remove the door hinges...Some fool had put the hinges on the inside of the door instead of the outside. Most likely Sabretooth.  
  
In the corner of the cell, Roberto DaCosta watched the Cajun in worried silence. He had woken up feeling slightly ill, and the fact that there was no window for even a tiny crack of sunlight to spill through was not helping. Roberto was as weak as a newborn kitten.  
  
Over his time spent in captivity, Roberto found himself formulating some new opinions about Magneto's Acolytes. Remy LeBeau in particular. The Cajun wasn't the coldhearted bastard that the other X-men made him out to be; to the contrary, Gambit was polite, respectful and even kind. Roberto decided that if the rumours were true, and that Rogue had her eye on the Acolyte, she would have his full support in the matter. Gambit was a nice guy; there was no other way to put it.  
  
Now, Pyro...that was a different matter. Roberto sighed, hating the fact that Amara was kept from his sight, hating that she was kept in close quarters with the half-sane pyromaniac, hating that he, Roberto, was not there for her. Amara was a close friend, a team member...perhaps even something more. To Roberto, at least. He wasn't so sure about her feelings for him; it seemed that she was preoccupied with someone else over the past couple weeks.  
  
"Hey, homme, you wanna have a go at dis doornail? Remy's fingers are hurtin' somet'ing awful."  
  
"Sure, why not?" Roberto staggered upright, leaning against the wall for support.  
  
"Okay, here's how y' do it..."

* * *

**A/N:** Yes it's short, but just deal with it. I needed a change in perspective and Roberto made for refreshment. I kind of like the possibility of a friendship between Gambit and Sunspot. I mean, they never interact on the show, so what would it be like if they actually met each other? 

I was busy writing Amyro fluff, and then was like "so if that's what John and Amara are doing in this cell, what would Roberto and Gambit be doing in the other one?" And no, I will not write slash. I'm not really a slash fan, unless it's written in a tasteful and highly professional manner. lol.

Read and Review, please!! I mean, if you read it, you might as well put in your two cents. It makes my feel so much happier about my story. I even welcome disparaging remarks! Anything short of a badly written flame with poor grammar and spelling that is...

Oh, and again...I don't hate Pietro. I just needed a bad guy for a ladies man...and the only Acolytes left are Colossus = nice guy, wouldn't dream of it, Magneto = he's the super mastermind guy, he doesn't have time for that. plus he's old, Mastermind= can we say euuurgh? or Sabretooth = another hearty "YECHHHH!" plus Sabes probably doesn't care about that kind of thing.


	15. Melted

I don't own X-men: Evolution

* * *

**St John Allerdyce was dreaming.**  
  
_In his dream, he stood within a burning ring of fire. Across from himself, in her natural human form, was Amara. She was beautiful; smiling kindly at him, she held her arms out in a wide embrace. _

_ He stepped forwards to take her into his own arms when a sudden gust of wind made the fire flare upwards, and Pietro appeared, smirking, behind Amara. In a trice the speed demon had spun the girl around, and was now passionately kissing her, holding her hands behind her back and ignoring the way she struggled against him. _

_ Jealousy and rage welled up inside John, and he was about to rush forwards when he realized that he couldn't move or speak any more. It was as if he had become stone; he could only watch, helpless, as Pietro deepened the kiss, and Amara's struggles grew weaker. _

_ Another movement caught his eye, and he looked on as Amara's friend—Roberto, was it?—rushed in, pulling Pietro off of Amara. John felt a surge of gratitude towards the Brazilian boy, and relief in that Pietro no longer seemed to be around. He himself seemed to be moving away from the flickering light of the flames: The last things that John saw were Roberto and Amara looking into each others' eyes._

_

* * *

_  
Pyro stirred slightly, groaning as he did so. His whole upper body—ribs in particular—ached, as if someone had been kicking him. He relaxed again, wincing as his muscles loosened.  
  
"John? Are you awake?"  
  
Amara...her voice seemed to come from right beside his right ear. He became aware of his back being against something warm and comfortable...most likely her front. He laughed a little in his head. This was exactly how she had woken up.  
  
"Yes luv, I'm awake, but...wot happened? I can't seem ta remember much beyond Pietro comin' inta the cell..." He trailed off uncertainly. Pietro! He turned to face her, his eyes burning intensely as he remembered fragments of his dream. "Wot did he do ta you?"  
  
She avoided looking in his eyes. "Nothing much," she mumbled, "Nothing compared to what he did to you. John, he used his speed to nearly kill you! I swear, he must be crazy or something." Her voice gained clarity and volume as she spoke, "He was punching you even after you went unconscious! It was all I could do to make him stop!"  
  
"Wot did ya have ta do to make him stop, then?" He raised an eyebrow, his voice hardening as his insides shriveled up with fear. If Pietro had made Amara do something...and using him as persuasion...  
  
"I—"Her voice faltered as she raised her eyes to look into his, clearly intimidated. But she kept going strong. "Nothing, John. All he did was to suggest things, no more than that." 

Her cheeks coloured a little under his stare, and she burst out, "Will you stop looking at me like that? Do you think I'd lie to you? I don't even know why I have to tell you that in the first place! What are you, the Spanish Inquisition?"  
  
Pyro forced himself to close his mouth after her furious tirade. Amara's powers may have been gone, but her temper still wasn't. But with Pietro, who knew?  
  
"Are ya sure?"  
  
She rolled her eyes at him. "Duh. What, you think I wouldn't NOTICE?!" Very embarrassed and very frustrated, Amara wasn't really sure what to do. So she changed the subject.  
  
"Hey, your arms don't look like they're bleeding anymore." She reached forwards.  
  
"Yaaaagh! Wot the bloody 'ell are ya tryin' ta do, sheila?!" John scrambled back out of her reach, glaring and with both hands protectively covering his biceps.  
  
"Oh, stop your whining. It doesn't hurt that much." Amara said coolly, trying not to smirk. Teach him to doubt her!  
  
"Yes it bloody well did! Ya didn't hafta go and...Oh, never mind." He said disgustedly as she started giggling, then went on in a quieter tone. "I can't stay mad at ya, 'Mara. Thanks fer not lettin' Pietro kick me ta death."  
  
She stopped laughing, but continued to smile. "You don't think I'd let him beat my poor, defenseless boyfriend to a pulp, now could I?"  
  
"Defenseless? I'll show you defenseless!"  
  
Amara yelped and laughed as Pyro went after her: finally catching her in his grasp, he...

* * *

"Nope, not this cell." Scott slammed the tiny viewing grate shut again. They were getting down to the last couple of cells: Amara and Roberto had to be in here somewhere! 

From behind him, he heard Kitty yell as she phased back out of the second last cell. "I found Roberto! But he's with that Remy guy!"  
  
Rogue winced, "Shhh! If anyone hears us down here, tha distraction up there will all be for nothin'!"  
  
"Well, what should I do?"  
  
"Get the both of them out." Scott said wearily, tired of his teammates' constant bickering. "Rogue vouches for the Cajun. I've never personally met him, but the Professor says he'll co-operate."  
  
Kitty nodded and walked through the metal, reappearing in a moment with a very weak-looking Sunspot and a tall, ruggedly handsome Cajun, who grinned wryly. "We almost had de hinges off, homme. 'Nother few moments and we woulda been outta there ourselves."  
  
As Rogue went over to Remy, Scott and Kitty turned their attention to Roberto, who was leaning on Kitty, looking exhausted. "What's the matter, Roberto?"

"Magneto...he gave us this serum that made us lose our powers. Temporarily, that is. Anyway...I really need to get back in the sun. Powers kicked in a minute ago...been in the dark too long..."

Scott took action decisively. "Kitty, I want you to phase Sunspot out of here as fast as you can, get him into the sun and protect him until he feels better. Then go join the rest of the X-men out front: they may need you."  
  
He turned to the last cell as Kitty vanished with Roberto. Amara had to be in this one...Ignoring Remy and Rogue's lip-lock –how they did it, he didn't want to know—he slammed back the covering of the viewing grate.  
  
"Wha...?"

* * *

Remy broke away and smirked, hugging Rogue for all he was worth. Damn, he loved her so much! In response to her elbow in his ribs, he turned to look at Scott, who was looking, aghast, into the cell where Remy suspected that John and Amara were held. Definitely where Pyro and Magma were held: flickering firelight reflected off of Scott's visor, and the door was turning an interesting shade of red as it sagged and melted from the apparent heat inside.  
  
The softened metal gave way to an optic blast, and the full scene was revealed.

* * *

A ring of fire burned, the flames perhaps three feet high, around St John Allerdyce, the heat apparently not bothering him one bit, though the hot air currents tossed and tumbled his messy red hair as if it really was fire.

In his arms, her face uplifted to meet his downturned one, was Princess Amara Aquilla of the Nova Roman Empire, wreathed in the blaze of her own Magma form, her back to the onlookers. They were kissing passionately, sitting on the small ring of concrete that wasn't destroyed or melted from the heat.

Even Rogue was gawking, though she recovered herself quickly. Scott, on the other hand, was settling quickly into a state of deep shock. "What the blazes" --Gambit winced at Cyclops' word choice—"is she DOING? Pyro's our enemy! He works for Magneto! He's crazy! Amara, get over here now!"  
  
Amara didn't even respond; Pyro raised his head to look over the top of Amara's hair and grinned at the three mutants. He winked slowly at Gambit, then raised his hand slowly; the flames grew from three feet to five, from five feet to seven.

Before the flames completely cut him off from view, Pyro gave Scott a glare that clearly said "Piss off", and then turned his love struck gaze back to Amara's face, desire burning deep within the aquamarine of his eyes.

* * *

"Well, dat's dat." Remy shrugged, keeping one arm around Rogue's waist. "Best be off, den."

"But what will we do about...about..." Scott gestured helplessly to the cell: the concrete was nearly liquid from the heat.

"What about them?" Rogue interjected, leading Remy past Cyclops to the stairway.

He sighed resignedly. "Fine. I suppose nobody will really be able to hurt them, what with that heat going on. Back to fight the good fight, now." He jogged away, back upstairs.

* * *

**A/N:** _smug smile_ How's that for flufferific? I realized halfway through writing this chapter that I was turning it into a "Let's watch Pyro suffer!" fiction, so I erased and re-wrote it. Maybe I'll write a fiction like that, but I won't let it destroy the Fluffyness-that-is-Amyro of this particklear story. Now, on to the review answers!! 

**Lady Sir Henry Morgan**: I'm your 100th reviewer? Wow, I'm amazing. Lol. Wales? I'm soooooo jealous!! Yes, she forgave him. It was necessary to the plot...without forgiveness there is kaputski. Which means nothing. :)

**amyroffl:** I'm guessing that means you're an Amyro Fanfiction Lover. Hmm...thanks!!

**kitty on fire**: Gambit is amazingly sexy. In fact, he's too sexy for that trenchcoat. Well, I hope I've kept your funeral at bay by updating with this chapter, hahaha.

**Pietro's Kitten**: Yes, yes he is bleeding. I needed to make the readers think "Omg! He's DYING! AAAAARGH!" Well, not really. Actually, not at all. I was more driving for a quiet appreciation of Pyro's amazing...uh...toughness. Even though he got the snot beat out of him. He's still a cool guy.

**Pyro Lady**: I'm on your favourites? You're too kind. Yeah, Jonda does sorta make sense, but I like poetic justification, and I think that Toad should get Wanda. Just because he's such a cute little nasty reject. I haven't written any Jonda's, no. Hey, don't sweat it about the spelling; the little review box-thingers don't seem to have spellcheck lol. As long as you spellcheck your fanfictions you're okay in my books :)


	16. Epilogue

* * *

I don't own X-men: Evolution

* * *

"X-men, we shall meet again!" Magneto's voice boomed, coldly emotionless, with nothing in it signifying the hasty and undignified retreat he was planning. All the X-men looked up: Magneto stood by five of his overgrown pinballs, glaring imperiously down at the battle going on.  
  
Pietro zoomed into one of the spheres, almost faster than anyone could see. The metal ball took off, and Kurt shook his fist at it. He had almost beat him!  
  
Mastermind quickly hopped into one of the spheres; it closed and immediately zoomed away. Sabretooth broke out of the headlock that Wolverine had had him in and bounded towards Magneto: he repeated Mastermind's motions, leaving a disgusted Wolverine staring at the sky.  
  
Professor X surveyed the scene from where he sat in the X-jet, guarding the New Recruits, all of which were out cold due to the collective efforts of Mastermind and an unwilling Colossus. Outside the jet, Kitty, Rogue, Scott, Jean, Kurt, Wolverine, Beast, and Storm watched the remaining Acolytes warily.  
  
Remy leant nonchalantly against the doorframe; he had refused to fight, just charging cards and throwing them randomly every once in a while, more often than not at Sabretooth.  
  
Piotr stood in human form, looking at the X-men with a deep sadness and longing within his eyes.  
  
"Colossus! Gambit! We haven't got all day!" Magneto intoned, an edge of impatience creeping into his voice.  
  
"Homme, I really don' know how t' say dis, but..." Remy paused, looking over at Rogue. She nodded encouragingly at him and he smirked, turning his gaze back to Magneto. "I quit."  
  
"You _what_?"  
  
"Da, that goes for me as well, Magneto." Colossus spoke up, emboldened by Remy's startling announcement.  
  
"You can't quit, fool boy! If you do, your family's lives are forfeit! Do you ever want to be able to see your sister again?"  
  
"I..."  
  
"Get over here. Now."  
  
With one last, sad glance at the X-men, Piotr turned and got into his sphere. It closed and soared away.  
  
"And as for you...."  
  
"Can't do anyt'ing to Remy, _homme_. He's got no family, no nothin' for blackmail. De contract is irrelevant; promises don't mean not'ing to me." Remy shrugged. "Plus, from what dis Cajun can see, de X-men seem to have it way better dan what you could ever deliver."  
  
Magneto glared, but Remy continued. "Plus, what wit' de forceful confinement, evil plans t' turn de humans t' mutants while killin' ot'er mutants....it ain't dis Cajun's cup o' tea. And don' look to de flame-boy fer help; he mos' likely feels de way I do 'bout you."  
  
Magneto was seriously considering wrapping Gambit's staff around his cocky Cajun throat to strangle the life out of him, but he suppressed the urge. If he could get Pyro to convince Remy to continue as an acolyte...speaking of which, he hadn't seen Pyro in a while. Oh yeah, locked him in the cells. Oops. But if Gambit was out, John must be out... 

"Pyro! Pyro! Where is that slacker?"  
  
Remy chuckled. "Ya might wanna try de big ball o' flame dat's takin' over de base, Boss."  
  
Indeed, an estimatedly twelve-foot flame roared up from the basement of the Acolyte base; it seemed to have burned through the building material around it, so that a clear space was left there.  
  
Magneto sighed in disgust. He would have to start over. It was unfair how the good guys always won.

* * *

"So..." Kurt looked a bit deflated as he watched Magneto's pinball soar into the wild blue yonder. "Vat do ve do now?"  
  
"Go home, I guess, and—hey, where's Amara?" Jean looked around for a little bit.  
  
Rogue smirked as she sauntered over to where Remy stood, pulling an almost invisible gauzy material out of her pocket, and called over her shoulder. "She's fahne, don't fret your pretty head."  
  
The X-men stared in shock as Rogue put her arms around Gambit and promptly started to kiss him.  
  
"What the—"  
  
"Jean, don't. Trust me, the real shocker is coming up next." Scott pointed to where the inferno raged. "Amara's over there. You can go get her if you like."  
  
"I think that we'll all go get her. She appears to be rather preoccupied with something." Beast mused, then started loping towards the base.

* * *

"Your friends're comin' this way, luv." Pyro's voice murmured into Amara's ear. She hugged him tighter in response, and he chuckled. "Don't care wot they think, do ya. Well, moight as well tone down the flames a bit..."

* * *

The X-men had gathered as close to the flames as they could, each voicing their own opinions as to the origins of the inferno.  
  
"She's probably battling it out with Pyro in there." 

"Yeah, I hope he's not able to control her flame, otherwise she's helpless!"

"Storm, could you make it rain?"

"I could try, child, but if Amara is in her fire form I would be doing the opposite of helping her."  
  
Remy, Rogue and Scott kept their mouths shut. Some things were best figured out by the individuals themselves; telling them would only complicate matters. Plus it was too funny. A sudden hush fell over the group as a tunnel was formed in the flame, and out of the raging inferno, walking sedately hand in hand, came two figures.  
  
The first was clearly Amara in her black-banded Magma form; her eyes alight and her body burning fiercely as she smiled at her friends, then turned her eyes to look at the person beside her.  
  
The second figure was that of a teenaged guy, standing a half-head taller than Amara, with fiery orange hair. He was bare to the waist, but below his navel was sheathed in Aladdin-style pants fabricated entirely out of flame. His eyes – intensely, brilliantly blue – traveled over the group of mutants in front of him as a wicked grin lit his features.  
  
Next thing that the X-men knew...  
  
"Are they KISSING?!"

* * *

_And here is my impromptu epilogue:_

The X-men finally came to terms with the Romy and Amyro situations. Professor X (being the nice, nice person that he is) offered Remy and John places at the mansion, which they gladly accepted.

Magneto decided to find a different base, as John and Amara had melted his original one.

Piotr's fate remains a mystery.

* * *

**A/N:** I really don't know that much about him at all, so I probably won't write a sequel wherein Piotr gets some justification. If any of you want to write a follow-up from this story that stars Piotr, email me and ask my permission.

Now, reviewer replies! (thanks to all you ppl out there who reviewed, you're awesome!)

**Mads Mads**: Yes, I posted this last chapter!! Thanks for the praise!

**Pietro's Kitten:** No, I couldn't kill John, it's just not in me. Or IS it? Mwahahaha...no. If I killed him off, there would be no more Amyro goodness. And that would defeat the basic purpose of this delectable story. lol

**Hana the Wreck:** Really? Cool! I'm glad I have inspired even more Amyro into the world of fanfiction! Ah-ha-ha-ha. --ahem-- sorry, sugar high here...

**Pyro Lady:** No, that chapter was not the end. THIS chapter is the end, much as I regret to say it, but you know, too much of a good thing... As for spell checking fanfictions, I write my stories in Microsoft Word, which has a spellchecker built into it. But if you don't have that, follow these simple steps:

1. After uploading your document click on "go to quickedit/preview" (it's green lettering)

2. At the top of the "quickedit/preview" menu thinger there's a button that says "ABC" on it with a checkmark on top. It's right beside the button with the scissors on it.

3. Click the ABC-with-a-checkmark button, and it should either spellcheck the document for you, or a little text box will pop up that tells you you haven't installed the spellchecker.

4. If the text box appears, click on the "OK" button to go to a downloading page where you can download the spellchecker.

Whee, wasn't that fun? And it's no bother at all; I prefer that you ask me instead of posting a fiction that is hard to read because of spelling mistakes lol. Good luck with your fanfiction!!


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